


I Ohio Voting

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [25]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, Gen, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senses, a talk, a singing turkey, maybe not the best choice of song, voting, and some dancing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

Rina girds herself before walking into William McKinley High School for Parent Teacher Night. Is it any wonder? Twice a year she’s done this, six nights of humiliation and embarrassed glances and whispered comments. Noah’s not a stupid boy, nor a bad one, really, but how can she cling to that in the face of his grades, his teacher’s observations, and the other parents’ knowledge of him.

She holds out faint hope that this year will be different. Even last February was different, she has to admit, but still a trial of a lesser sort. Noah’s reassurance that there shouldn’t be any surprises aside, Rina lifts her head high and exits the car.

Rina sits through a mind-numbing introduction in the assembly with that ridiculous principal. There are no musical numbers this year; the year that Noah and Finn performed with that ridiculous group of Mr. Schuester’s was beyond embarrassing.

The rest of the evening is ten minutes in the classroom for each period of the day. She finds herself next to Carole in the first classroom, and Stevie Evans’ mother, whom she met the previous afternoon at Hannah’s school, is there as well. The five minute talk by the teacher goes well, and then she starts speaking to a few of the parents individually. Rina stands, preparing to make her escape, but is stopped in the end.

“Ms. Puckerman?”

“Yes?” Rina sighs inwardly. She didn’t even make it past the first period.

“I just wanted to say what a polite, respectful young man your son is. I was so impressed that he actually voted today, too, extra credit or no.”

“T-t-Thank you,” Rina stammers out, blinking at the woman disbelievingly.

Rina sighs a little when she sees the Berrys in the third classroom. Humiliation isn’t complete, after all, unless it’s front of those you already know. When the teacher introduces herself to Rina, though, she merely comments that Noah is an insightful participant.

Rina trots back to the second classroom after that, and when the physics teacher doesn’t have similar praises (“quiet and attentive” is a shock, still, but less so than insightful or polite), she thinks that perhaps she’s not fully in the twilight zone yet.

Fourth period is, apparently, glee club, and the parents in the room mostly know each other. William Schuester goes into a long spiel, though, about their children, which involves a lot of writing on the whiteboard and words like ‘talent’ and ‘dedication.’

Unsure if her body can take any more shocks, Rina decides to retire gracefully to the refreshments, but Ms. Pillsbury corners her there, talking about Noah’s independent study of the AP Music Theory curriculum, and how he’s blossomed and she must be so very proud of him.

Rina staggers back out to her car at the end of the evening with an invitation to Carole’s for Thanksgiving, a stunning report card for Noah, and the beginnings of a headache. For once, though, she’s not humiliated or embarrassed.

Maybe she is a little proud.

 

That, Burt reflects, maybe did not go so well.

Burt doesn’t know the rules of these things. Suggesting that Puckerman, and only Puckerman, was the one in need of wearing protection? Apparently offensive. How was Burt supposed to know that? Puckerman is so much more...macho, Burt thinks the right word might be macho, if he’s comparing Puck to Kurt. It just, Burt assumed. Incorrectly assumed. Now he not only has to deal with Kurt and Kurt’s new “adult times,” but he’s also got to deal with Kurt being mad at him _and_ a completely new set of horrible mental pictures to torment him every time Kurt leaves the house. That’s just great. Dads? They can’t win.

He doesn’t know what to think about Kurt and the lying. He always thought that when Kurt was ready, he’d come to Burt first, and they’d talk about it. It would be real uncomfortable for both of them, but Burt would pat him on the shoulder and tell him he appreciated Kurt trusting him, and then Kurt would make some warm milk or cocoa or something, and that would be that. Instead, Burt has to find out from Carole, who had to find out from _Rina_ of all people, and let’s face it, that one? Not the most stable person in the world, yet she still knew before Burt knew.

Burt doesn’t like it one bit, but apparently none of that matters any more. Kurt’s grown up and he doesn’t seem to think he owes Burt any kind of explanation, and maybe he’s right. Maybe he doesn’t owe Burt anything. Burt never bought into that idea of a kid being obligated to his parents just for doing a good job of raising him; that’s a parent’s job, raising a kid right. He just thought he’d done enough to let Kurt know that he could always come to his dad with important life events, even the embarrassing ones.

Sometimes, Burt thinks Kurt’s leaving home just at the point where Burt’s finally really getting good at this whole parenting thing. Other times, Burt thinks he’s never gonna be good enough at it, so maybe Kurt has the right idea, leaving.


	2. Emails (a 3x09 bonus fic)

To:    
[   
rhinofishes@gmail.com   
](mailto:rhinofishes@gmail.com)   
From:    
[   
da.karofsky@gmail.com   
](mailto:da.karofsky@gmail.com)   
Sent: Wed 2 November 2011 21:32:00   
Subject: Hey there

Casey,

I hope you don’t mind that I added you on Facebook. Don’t worry, I won’t send you any pigs from Farmville or expect you to send me ammunition for Mafia Wars or anything like that. I did see you’re a fan of some of the recent comic book action hero movies–do you read any of the comics?

Dave

  
To:    
[   
da.karofsky@gmail.com   
](mailto:da.karofsky@gmail.com)   
From:    
[   
rhinofishes@gmail.com   
](mailto:rhinofishes@gmail.com)   
Sent: Thurs 3 November 2011 01:47:00   
Subject: Re: Hey there

Hi David

I don’t mind. Also I already have six pigs and some chickens. Also the lady gaga sparkly unicorn, so I’m all set. No I don’t really have that one.

I like the comics but it’s hard to keep up with them. I mostly read the compiled graphic novels. I like the Marvel ones and Superman, but my very favorite is actually Sandman. It’s not superheroes, though. Have you read that one?

Thank you again for Tuesday.

Casey

  
To:    
[   
rhinofishes@gmail.com   
](mailto:rhinofishes@gmail.com)   
From:    
[   
da.karofsky@gmail.com   
](mailto:da.karofsky@gmail.com)   
Sent: Fri 4 November 2011 19:37:00   
Subject: Quiet

Hey Casey

So I haven’t read Sandman; do you think you could loan it to me? My favorites are the Fantastic Four, though. It’s probably not a surprise that I like the Hulk, too, though I like the pre-80s stuff the best for Hulk. 

It’s also probably not a surprise that I don’t know what to do with myself on a Friday night without a football game! My dad and I went camping over the last by weekend, but he had a client meeting in Cleveland today, so he’s still there. Do you like camping? I’m not a fan of backpacking (though I’ve done it, in Boy Scouts), but I like camping and fishing.

Dave

  
To:    
[   
da.karofsky@gmail.com   
](mailto:da.karofsky@gmail.com)   
From:    
[   
rhinofishes@gmail.com   
](mailto:rhinofishes@gmail.com)   
Sent: Fri 4 November 2011 19:54:00   
Subject: Re: Quiet

Hi David

I have the whole Sandman series & you can borrow them whenever you want. I can bring Preludes & Nocturnes on Monday if you want. It’s really different from stuff like Fantastic Four though so I don’t know if you’ll like it!

I don’t ever know what to do with myself on a Friday night but I bet you’re really bored without a football game. I’ve only been camping one time and my dad didn’t take me again after that. I’m not really good at tents I guess. I like the idea of fishing but really I don’t like putting the hooks through the crickets. I know that’s probably dumb but I just feel so mean.

Casey

To:    
[   
rhinofishes@gmail.com   
](mailto:rhinofishes@gmail.com)   
From:    
[   
da.karofsky@gmail.com   
](mailto:da.karofsky@gmail.com)   
Sent: Mon 7 November 2011 20:05:00   
Subject: So Far, So Cool

Thanks for the loan, Casey! I’m not that far into them but so far they are pretty cool. 

I usually use a fly fishing lure so no crickets. Honestly, my dad and I throw most of the fish back but if we catch a good-size old bass we’ll keep him and fry him up. It always tastes so good but that might be because I’ve been sitting in the sun all day trying to catch it!

Did you want to meet during lunch on Wednesday to talk about that probability extra credit Mr. Grecoe gave out? 

Dave

  
To:    
[   
da.karofsky@gmail.com   
](mailto:da.karofsky@gmail.com)   
From:    
[   
rhinofishes@gmail.com   
](mailto:rhinofishes@gmail.com)   
Sent: Mon 7 November 2011 21:24:00   
Subject: Re: So Far, So Cool

Just wait until you get to Brief Lives. That’s my favorite one but there’s still a bunch more stuff in between it and where you are. I love all the different artists but I think Jill Thompson’s style is the best really. All the different ways she draws Delirium. You haven’t met Delirium yet, she’s not until later. 

I like fish but I’m just no good at the fishing part. I’ll eat fish somebody else catches though!

And yes thank you so much, I would really appreciate you talking with me about the extra credit. The wording is a little weird from how we learned it in class. I can’t tell if I’m being dumb or he’s trying to trick us or both.

Do you think he’s trying to trick us?

Casey

  
To: “Casey” <rhinofishes@gmail.com>   
From:    
[   
da.karofsky@gmail.com   
](mailto:da.karofsky@gmail.com)   
Sent: Tues 8 November 2011 17:58:00   
Subject: Civics, Really

Mr. Grecoe? Possibly. Or he just wants you to do some independent research. It’s hard, though; the school library and the public library are both short on mathematics research materials. 

I voted for the first time today. I feel like it should be momentous or something but it was really boring. There were only three questions and I really don’t know why we were voting about whether 70 or 75 year olds could be judges. My grandfathers were both union men though so I wanted to vote against that anti-union thing. 

My dad just left for that Parent/Teacher Night thing. I swear, I think he’ll miss it next year. At least my grades should be good–I hope.

Dave

  
To: “Captain America” <da.karofsky@gmail.com>   
From: “Casey” <rhinofishes@gmail.com>   
Sent: Tues 8 November 2011 18:13:00   
Subject: Re: Civics, Really

I’m kinda of scared to start voting but I still have a while to get over that. I’d be so worried I’d make the wrong choice on everything! It’s cool you voted though. You’re like Captain America out there fighting Hydra. 75 year old Hydra judges. That’ll teach em.

I hate parent/teacher night though. My mom has to take off work for it and I really hate to make her miss for something like that. My grades are always the same every time so I don’t see the point of it. 

I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch though. I’ll bring the next Sandman if you’re ready to swap out.

To: “Captain America” <da.karofsky@gmail.com>   
From: “Casey” <rhinofishes@gmail.com>   
Sent: Wed 9 November 2011 00:24:00   
Subject: sorry

I wont be there at lunch 

so sorry

To: “Casey” <rhinofishes@gmail.com”>   
From: “Captain America” <da.karofsky@gmail.com>   
Sent: Wed 9 November 2011 18:05:00   
Subject: Are you okay?

Are you sick? Give me call if you can 419-555-1398.

To: “Casey” <rhinofishes@gmail.com”>   
From: “Captain America” <da.karofsky@gmail.com>   
Sent: Thurs 10 November 2011 07:49:00   
Subject: Seriously

At least send me a text if you can. Johannson or Fordham didn’t bother you again, did they?

To: “Captain America” <da.karofsky@gmail.com>   
From: “Casey” <rhinofishes@gmail.com>   
Sent: Thurs 10 November 2011 15:30:00   
Subject: Re: Seriously

Sorry David. I’m ok & be back tomorrow. Nobody bothered me, everythings fine. Just me being stupid again is all. I’m sorry for causing any trouble.

  
To: “Casey” <rhinofishes@gmail.com”>   
From: “Captain America” <da.karofsky@gmail.com>   
Sent: Fri 11 November 2011 17:04:00   
Subject: Football Game

Hey I hope all that helped a little with the extra credit earlier. I wanted to tell you my dad is coming tonight if you didn’t want to sit with that guy from your Spanish class that you told me about! Seriously, come to the game, everyone says it’s a lot of fun to watch–I know it’s fun on the field, anyway.

Dave

  
To: “Captain America” <da.karofsky@gmail.com>   
From: “Casey” <rhinofishes@gmail.com>   
Sent: Fri 11 November 2011 17:16:00   
Subject: see you there!

My dad says it’s ok if I go so if you hear somebody cheering really loud for you tonight it’s probably not the guy from my Spanish class. 

Ok it might be him.

But probably not.

No ok it’ll be me.


	3. Episode 3x09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [playlist for this episode](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLAE2FE164D96D79AC)

“Senses!” Mr. Schue’s voice enters the choir room before the rest of him. “I’m so excited to see what all of you have for us this week.” He rubs his hands together and looks around. Puck thinks that most of them don’t look that excited; they all stayed longer at Rachel’s than planned, first because the Berrys offered to order some pizza, and then because Mike had a brainstorm on choreography for “I’ve Gotta Feeling.” Puck had managed to cut back to a grande Americano the week before, but he went right back to venti that morning. “Anyone want to go first?”

When no one moves, Puck shrugs. “I can.” He stands up and walks to the front. “I hope most of you recognize this, and if you don’t, you should probably be ashamed.” Luckily the jazz band is around, so it sounds a lot better than it would with just Puck’s guitar by itself.

 _Yeah! Come on, come on, come on, come on  
Now touch me, baby  
Can't you see that I am not afraid?  
What was that promise that you made?  
Why won't you tell me what she said?  
What was that promise that you made? _

_Now, I'm gonna love you  
Till the heavens stop the rain  
I'm gonna love you  
Till the stars fall from the sky for you and I_

“Oh, nice, The Doors,” Schue nods as Puck finishes. “Great selection. Who’s next?”

“I have a song!” Brittany exclaims. “It’s about touch, too.” She walks over and whispers something to the jazz band, who all get strange looks on their faces. Puck understands why when Brittany starts singing.

 _I love myself I want you to love me  
When I feel down I want you above me  
I search myself I want you to find me  
I forget myself I want you to remind me _

_I don't want anybody else  
When I think about you I touch myself  
Ooh I don't want anybody else Oh no, oh no, oh no _

_You're the one who makes me come running  
You're the sun who makes me shine  
When you're around I'm always laughing  
I want to make you mine_

Puck can’t decide if it’s better or worse than the song Kurt showed him. Probably a little better except that everyone in the room is trying to fight laughter, and Schue looks like he’s about to blow a gasket, turned towards the wall and leaning on it.

Everyone claps heartily when Brittany finishes, and she smiles. “Brittany?” Schue finally chokes out. “That may not have been the most... appropriate song.”

“Why not?”

“Sweetie,” Santana begins, and then stops, shaking her head. “We’ll explain it later, okay?”

“Okay.” Brittany shrugs and sits back down.

“Well. Who would like to follow that performance? Maybe something for one of the other senses.”

“I’ll go,” Mike offers, grinning when everyone turns to look at him in surprise. “I finally found a very specific sub-genre that suits me.”

“All right,” Schue does his best to mask his surprise. “Let’s hear it.”

Mike keeps grinning and walks up to the front. He’s right; he can sing, at least this specific song.

 _Load up on guns and bring your friends  
It’s fun to lose and to pretend  
She’s overboard self-assured  
Oh no I know a dirty word_

Grunge. Who’d’ve thought?

 _With the lights out, it’s less dangerous  
Here we are now, entertain us  
I feel stupid and contagious  
Here we are now, entertain us_

Everyone cheers when Mike finishes, and Puck’s a little surprised when Kurt’s one of the most enthusiastic clappers. “I love that song,” he confides to Mike, and everyone looks at him, most of them a little stunned.

“Hello.” He rolls his eyes. “What’s my name?”

“Um, it’s Kuuuurt,” Finn says, speaking very slowly and enunciating carefully.

“And what is the name of Nirvana’s lead singer?”

Finn shrugs. Tina brightens. “Were you named for Kurt Cobain?” she asks, almost bouncing in her seat.

“I was,” Kurt nods, grinning a little. “Nirvana was my mom’s favorite band.” He shrugs. “Most of their music isn’t really in my wheelhouse.”

“That is _so_ cool,” Tina gushes.

“Why’d we never figure that out before?” Puck scratches his head.

“I thought you were named after Burt, only with a K,” Finn offers. “Come on. Burt and Kurt? Am I the only one who thinks that?”

“I thought that, too,” Brittany nods. “It’s totally adorable. But being named after the dead guy is really cool, too!”

“That is really interesting, Kurt,” Schue nods. “I think we have time for one more performance today. Who’s ready?”

“I can go,” Tina offers, standing up. “And it’s not about touch, either,” she grins.

 _Her face is a map of the world  
Is a map of the world  
You can see she's a beautiful girl  
She's a beautiful girl  
And everything around her is a silver pool of light  
The people who surround her feel the benefit of it  
It makes you calm  
She holds you captivated in her palm_

 _Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)  
This is what I wanna be  
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)  
Why the hell it means so much to me_

“Nice, very nice,” Schue nods. The bell rings before he can say anything else, and everyone begins to file out of the room.

“I’m starving,” Puck confides to Kurt. “I don’t know why.”

“You’re a growing boy?” Kurt offers with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Mmm. I’ll show...” he cuts himself off and returns Kurt’s smirk.

“You could call ahead and we could get curbside or something. That’s a little more food.”

“Oh, good idea.” Puck pulls out his phone and does just that. “Fifteen minutes, so perfect.”

Kurt stops before they get out of the classroom and looks at his area of the bulletin board and the new piece of paper pinned up there. He reads it quickly and grins, looking at Puck, who puts on a pretense of innocence for about five seconds before grinning, too. Kurt’s been listening to the song a lot lately.

 _Got this feeling that you can’t fight  
Like this city is on fire tonight  
This could really be a good life  
A good, good life_

Lunch is good and class goes well, and while Kurt’s going to work for a few hours, he’ll be back at dinner, and maybe all of that is why Puck feels like he can handle sitting down at his computer and sending Shelby an email.

He pretty much never responds close to when she sends one, and the same can be said for her about when he sends one. He thinks they both need the space between their contact, or something like that. Usually he doesn’t leave it quite so long, though. He takes a deep breath and opens up a fresh message.

 _Dear Shelby,_

 _I’m sorry it’s taken me awhile to respond. October was a crazy month in a lot of ways._

 _Thank you for the pictures. I can tell Beth had a lot of fun being a cat. Did she pick the costume or is she still letting you choose? It does sound like she would love a pet kitty. When I was really little, we had a black and white cat named Fred. She (yes, she) was great._

 _We haven’t really ever mentioned a few topics. I was hesitant to bring this up, but I talked about it with a good friend and I decided it couldn’t hurt. I’m not really that religious, at all (I eat bacon and pork chops, for starters), but it does sort of matter to me that Beth know she’s half-Jewish and maybe be exposed to some of it. I don’t know what your own beliefs are, and I’m not asking you to take her to services or anything, just... I guess just consider it? What you might be comfortable with?_

Puck takes a deep breath and frowns at the screen. He considers trying to rewrite it, but then decides against it.

 _Thanks again for the pictures. I can’t describe how much they mean to me._

 _Sincerely,  
Noah_

Shelby’s always addressed him as Noah, and it just seems easier to go with it. “Puck” doesn’t seem like the kind of guy you want around your daughter, probably, even if he is her biological father. Puck sighs and pushes himself out of his chair. He can’t look at Facebook and see that Tina’s crops need harvesting or whatever, not after sending an email like that. He paces around the apartment for a little bit, putting up dishes and taking out the trash before he settles down and does his problem set for math and his reading for music styles. It’s a relief that he hears his mom’s key in the door just after he finishes those.

“Hi, Noah!”

“How was your day?”

“Hey, squirt.” Puck shrugs. “Pretty good, I guess.”

“Kurt at work?”

Puck nods. “Yeah, he’ll be here around six.”

“I thought we’d have meatloaf and some baked squash tonight,” Rina says. “Sound good?”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Puck shrugs and stands up, heading towards the kitchen.

“Preheat the oven,” Rina calls, headed towards her bedroom, probably to change clothes.

 

“I got it, Mom,” Puck yells back, rolling his eyes. He’s been helping cook or outright doing the cooking for _years_ ; he knows to preheat the damn oven.

He and Hannah mix the meatloaf while his mom does something to the squash, and then it has to cook for awhile, so Puck goes back in the living room to wait for Kurt. He brings his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on his knees, absently listening to his sister doing her homework and his mom going through the mail he left on the dining room table. Their date on Friday night was awesome; Puck likes it when they can go somewhere and spend time together and not worry too much. He hates to say ‘like normal people,’ because they are normal, but there’s definitely some limits on them in Ohio that aren’t there for the straight people.

Most of the time it doesn’t exactly bother him that he’s not really out. When he’s walking around Lima, he’s more concerned with getting out and Kurt getting out and both of them being safe.

He has to admit that he likes the way he feels when they aren’t in Lima much better.

A sharp knock on the door brings him back to the present and he strides to the door, smiling as Kurt steps inside. “Hey, blue eyes,” Puck says quietly, bringing a hand up to Kurt’s cheek and kissing him deeply.

“That is a nice hello,” Kurt grins.

“I’m not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?” Puck teases.

“Oh, no, that is definitely allowed,” Kurt grins. “Welcome, in fact.”

“Oh, well, good, then.” Puck matches Kurt’s grin. They walk over to Puck’s room, and Kurt slips off his shoes and then tucks his feet up under him, sitting down on Puck’s bed. “Dinner’ll be a bit, still,” Puck explains as he sits down behind Kurt, pulling Kurt’s back to his chest. “It’s in the oven.”

“Okay.” Kurt’s voice is quiet and content. “Does that mean we can just sit here for a little while? Instead of working?”

“Sounds good to me.” Puck kisses the side of Kurt’s neck, and he can see Kurt’s mouth curve upwards as he tilts his neck to the side a little.

“Tomorrow is Tuesday, baby,” Kurt says a moment later, satisfied.

Puck laughs for a moment, low and quiet. “Yes it is.”

“I should make sure Finn won’t be home early tomorrow,” Kurt continues, musing. He wriggles a little and pulls out his phone, then sends off a text. “There.” He turns slightly and looks up at Puck. “Why is it only November? I’m ready to leave.”

“I know,” Puck answers sadly. “I am, too.”

And as soon as he says it, he knows it’s absolutely and completely true. They’re supposed to enjoy the last year of high school and time with their friends, and since they can’t actually leave yet, he’ll make the best of it and all. If he could, though, if they could–he’d start packing in under a minute.

It’s a little disconcerting.

They spend the remaining time until dinner sitting together in silence, moving only when Finn returns Kurt’s text. The timer dinging makes them both get up slowly and head towards the kitchen.

“Oh, hello, Kurt,” Rina smiles. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Hello, Rina,” Kurt greets her. “I suppose I was just stealthy today.” He grins a little.

Hannah trots into the room before Rina can respond. “Hi Kurt! Guess what?”

“What?”

“I get to be a turkey!”

“A turkey?” Kurt furrows his brow and looks at Puck, clearly confused.

“In the Thanksgiving show!” Hannah explains. “Will you come see me? I’m a singing turkey.”

“A singing turkey. Well, I’ll try,” Kurt answers, shrugging. “What do you sing?”

“Oh, about hoping that I’m the turkey the President pardons.”

“A worthwhile goal,” Kurt nods solemnly, and Puck grins as he watches the two of them.

“Hannah, I had your parent-teacher conference today,” Rina announces as they sit down. “I also got your report card.”

Hannah looks a little wary, and Puck raises an eyebrow at her. She immediately looks more calm and glances at Rina. “What did my teacher say?”

“She said that you’re doing very well. She’d like to see you talk a little _less_ in class, though. I was very proud of your report card–As and Bs.”

“Good job, squirt,” Puck says, offering her a fist to bump.

“I often was told to speak less in class when I was younger,” Kurt says, smiling slightly at Hannah, who grins at both of them.

“Noah, I hope there are no surprises waiting for me at Parent Night tomorrow?”

Puck shakes his head. “If there are, they’re a surprise to me, too.”

Rina raises her eyebrows a little but then nods, seemingly satisfied, and turns the conversation in other directions. Once everything’s cleared, Puck and Kurt disappear back into Puck’s room to do homework, as unappealing as it sounds.

“I sent Shelby an email earlier,” Puck says quietly after Hannah’s already gone to bed.

Kurt sets down his notebook and pencil and moves a little closer to Puck, taking his hand but not saying anything else.

“I did ask her.” Puck shrugs. “We’ll see, I guess. Anyway, writing the email. It reminded me that when I was little, I had a black and white cat named Fred.”

“Fred?”

Puck smiles a little. “I _loved_ Mr. Rogers when I was little, and I wanted to name the cat Mr. Rogers, but Mom said that was too long of a name, so I asked what Mr. Rogers’ first name was. So Fred it was.” He laughs for a moment. “Turns out Fred was a girl, for starters. I had to give her away when we moved after my dad left.” He shrugs. “It’s weird, though, I hadn’t thought about her for years, you know? But I used to just love that cat.”

“I’ve never had a pet,” Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know. Dad asked me if I wanted a dog or something a few years ago, but while it sounded nice, it didn’t really sound nice enough to deal with walking a dog or emptying a cat’s litter box. I guess that’s the nice thing about being a little kid and having a pet–your parents get to do that stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Puck chuckles. “All I had to do with Fred was play with her.”

“I’m sure you were adorable playing with her,” Kurt grins. He runs his fingers through Puck’s mohawk. “All curly-haired, right?”

“Yes,” Puck groans.

“Aww, I think you’d still look cute,” Kurt assures him.

“Cute, huh?” Puck shakes his head and grabs Kurt’s chin, kissing him firmly.

“Hot? Sexy?” Kurt offers breathlessly.

“Better,” Puck grins, kissing him again. He releases Kurt and lies on his side, pulling Kurt down as well. “I have thought about ditching the ‘hawk,” he confesses. “Not, like, right now. But sometime before the end of the year.”

“Just shaving it off?”

“Yeah. I dunno.”

“It’s probably strange, but I like it.” Kurt shrugs. “But I can understand why you might want to get rid of it.”

“Really?” Puck’s a little surprised. “You don’t just, like, tolerate it?”

Kurt shakes his head. “No. I don’t know.” He runs his hand over Puck’s head. “But you looked good when it was gone for awhile, too.”

“I thought I always looked good.” Puck smirks and winks.

“Oh, you do,” Kurt agrees, eyes sparkling. He leans forward, kissing Puck slowly, lips barely parted, and Puck’s about to pull away when Kurt’s tongue slides over their lips. Puck opens his mouth wider and meets Kurt’s tongue with his own. He can feel Kurt’s hand slide over his head again before trailing down his back, coming to rest in the small of Puck’s back. Kurt pulls then, aligning their bodies together, and Puck thrusts forward. The resulting contact makes both of them deepen the kiss further, and Puck puts his own arm around Kurt. Kurt’s hips rock, then, and they find a rhythm quickly, rocking against each other firmly, mouths still fused together. Puck’s contemplating trying to unfasten Kurt’s pants with just one hand when there’s a knock on his door.

“Boys?”

“Oh, fuck,” Puck mutters as they roll away from each other almost violently and he sits up. “Yeah, Mom?” he says a little louder. He supposes he should be grateful his mom lets them keep the door closed.

“I’m headed to bed. Don’t keep Kurt up too late, Noah.”

“All right, Mom.” Puck rolls his eyes. “Good night.”

“Night!”

Puck collapses back onto the bed. “Dammit.”

“Exactly.” Kurt sighs. “That _was_ a hint, right?”

“Yeah.” Puck shakes his head. “Mom’s confusing sometimes. Contradictory. I dunno.”

“I’ll go ahead and go, then.” Kurt sits up and starts to gather his stuff, then leans over and kisses Puck again, lingering over the kiss for a long time. “Don’t forget, 7:15 tomorrow.”

“Right. Extra credit. Civic responsibility. Et cetera.” Puck grins.

“Exactly.” Kurt sighs and shoulders his bag, then smiles as Puck walks out into the living room with him. “Be good.”

“I’m always good.” Puck closes the door softly behind Kurt, but when he walks towards his bedroom, he can’t help but throw a spiteful glance in the direction of his mother’s room. Kurt had at least another hour before his curfew. The door was closed. Sometimes he really doesn’t understand his mom.

 

“Thank you so much for dinner!” Rachel beams at Carole. “It was delicious.” Rachel walks towards the stairs, waiting at the foot for Finn to catch up with her. Finn comes along after just a few moments and together they climb to stairs and walk down the hall to Finn’s room.

Rachel sits down in Finn’s desk chair and spins around twice before stopping. “I was so embarrassed for Brittany today!”

“Yeah,” Finn cringes. “I’m pretty sure that song’s about, you know.” He blushes a little.

Rachel blushes, too, and bites her lip as she nods her agreement. “I think so,” she says after a minute, softly. “But the rest of the songs were good, didn’t you think?”

“I liked Puck’s,” Finn says, nodding slowly. “Tina’s was good. And hey, who knew Mike could sing, right?”

“I know!” Rachel giggles a little. “I’m not the biggest fan of ‘grunge,’” she admits, putting air quotes around ‘grunge,’ “but he did a nice job. And Kurt! Being named after Kurt Cobain!”

“I had no idea,” Finn shakes his head. “It’s kind of funny. I mean, if I were gonna pick a guy who’s about as _not_ like a grunge rock guy from the ‘90s, I’d probably pick Kurt. Our Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

Rachel nods. “Exactly!” She pauses for a minute, and spins on the chair again. “Speaking of Kurt.”

“Which Kurt?”

“Your brother, Finn.”

“Well, we were just talking about another Kurt, so,” Finn shrugs. “What about Kurt? My brother Kurt, I mean?”

“I...” Rachel tilts her head, and Finn thinks she looks adorable, like a confused baby owl with big, curious eyes. “He and Noah... they’re not _just_ dating, are they?”

Finn blushes and stammers, “Well, I mean, I’m pretty sure they’re probably, well, _you know_ , too.” His eyes roll around, because this conversation is just too unbearable.

“Well, yes,” Rachel nods and doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “It just seems... very _serious_.”

“Oh, that?” Finn takes a deep breath and exhales a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you were talking about... _you know_ , and honestly, I already know more about that than I ever wanted to know.”

“I just,” she shrugs, almost determinedly ignoring the last part of Finn’s ramble. “I just thought they were, you know. Dating. Seeing each other. But then you said that Kurt eats dinner with them on family dinner night, and that’s a little different. Isn’t it?”

Finn just shrugs, because Puck and Kurt are just, well, they’re just Puck and Kurt, and Finn hasn’t really tried to extrapolate that into any set of rules or definitions. “Well, I mean, they’re gonna get married and have babies and stuff, probably. Well, _they_ aren’t gonna have babies, but you know, probably they’ll have babies like how your dads did. Is that kind of what you mean?”

Rachel blinks, but then nods, slowly at first and then a little faster. “Yes, kind of.” She frowns a little. “It must be very hard on them, keeping it a secret.”

“Yeah, I think it is,” Finn sighs. “But it’s what they think they need to do, and after some of the shit we’ve already seen this year, do you think they’re wrong? I mean, I don’t know if you noticed little Casey at the last PFLAG meeting.”

“He did seem out of sorts,” Rachel agrees. “What happened?”

“Same kind of stuff that happened to Kurt last year,” Finn frowns. “Those guys who have been talking crap about Kurt, the ones that got into it with Puck, have been going after Casey, too.”

Rachel frowns deeply. “He’s so _small_. Puck looked bad enough and–” she stops mid-sentence. “No wonder he was so upset with them!”

“It’s an ongoing thing,” Finn sighs. “And if they knew about Puck, or Puck and Kurt, it would be worse.”

“I suppose so,” Rachel agrees, nodding, a frown still on her face. “Things don’t change quickly enough.”

“No, and I can’t beat up everybody who refuses to change,” Finn says, then scrunches his eyebrows together thoughtfully for a minute, because that _is_ a nice thought. “Well, maybe me and Puck _and_ Dave together could.”

“Karofsky?” Rachel’s eyebrows disappear under her bangs.

Finn nods. “Yeah, uh, he’s taking the PFLAG thing really seriously,” he explains, running his hand over his hair. “He helped me, um, _talk_ to Johannson after the last meeting. ‘Cause of what happened with Casey."

“Oh.” Rachel looks torn, like she can’t decide what question to ask. “What did you do to Jo–whatever his name is?” she asks finally.

“Jojo?” Finn laughs. “Didn’t lay a finger on him. Well, not this time, anyway.”

“Hmm.” Rachel manages to look approving and a little suspicious at the same time. “Oh! Are you going to do anything for our PFLAG assembly?”

“I probably should,” Finn says. “I’m not sure what, though. I guess I should figure something out pretty quick. Before the next meeting. Should I sing something? I mean, I could threaten them with a dance if they use inappropriate terms for gay people.”

Rachel smiles at him warmly. “I don’t think your dancing is that bad, Finn. A song might be nice. I thought about asking Kurt if he wants to reprise our duet from the other week.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn nods, enthusiastically. “That would be really great, ‘cause there’s this movie on YouTube that uses that! Kurt showed me. Actually, he made me watch it like four or five times.”

“Yes, it’s so sweet,” Rachel agrees, nodding. She stands and walks over to Finn, sitting down close beside him. “We’ll find you a good song, if you want.”

“Yeah, you should come a little closer and we’ll talk about that,” Finn says, putting his arm around Rachel’s waist. He buries his nose in her hair and breathes in its floral scent. “Probably I can’t sing a song about how pretty my girlfriend is, right?”

Rachel giggles and presses against Finn’s side. “Maybe for glee one week.”

“I could sing a song about how sad it is for all those gay guys, that they’re missing out on how nice you smell,” Finn says, nuzzling his nose into the side of her neck and planting a little kiss there.

Rachel turns her head towards him, still giggling, and tilts her face up expectantly. Finn takes the opportunity to pull her closer and into a deep kiss.

 

Puck heads down the stairs right at 7:15 the next morning. “Morning,” he yawns, climbing into the Nav. “Citizenship first?”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees. “It’s nice your history teacher is giving extra credit just for voting.”

“Well, we have to tell her why we voted or if we researched the issues or whatever, but yeah. It is a pretty sweet deal.”

“You think I could convince my stats teacher that I should extra credit for voting?”

“Probably not,” Puck laughs. “You could try, though.”

Kurt shrugs and parks in front of the courthouse. “Maybe we’ll get an award for being the youngest people to vote. You know turnout’s not going to be that high.”

“Yeah, us and the people that like that ugly blonde woman.” Puck shakes his head and closes the door, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walk inside. The woman checking voters in does a double-take at the sight of them, and Puck can’t help but smirk a little. If his hands weren’t in his pockets, she’d really do a double-take.

“Here to vote?”

“Yep,” Puck nods, pulling out his drivers’ license, and Kurt nods his agreement, doing the same. It doesn’t take long to vote–three ballot initiatives and done–and then they hand them the cheesy ‘I Voted’ stickers, which Puck promptly sticks on. Kurt’s studying his. “You not going to wear it?” Puck grins.

“I’m trying to figure out if it’s a viable accessory,” Kurt nods. “I’m not sure if I ‘Ohio’ Voting or not. I might not when I see the results.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, probably not, but we can hope, right?”

“You seem sure we voted similarly.”

“Didn’t we?”

“Straight nos,” Kurt admits, and Puck grins.

“Told you. The middle one was confusing, the no vote is a yes to repeal.”

“No doubt purposefully confusing.”

“Yeah. Let’s go get breakfast pizza. Everyone will be totally jealous–we get breakfast pizza _and_ we voted.”

Kurt laughs. “I doubt they’re going to be that envious that we voted.”

They devour an entire pizza between them, and Kurt somewhat reluctantly places the sticker on his lapel before they enter the school. Puck takes the moment that Kurt’s fussing with it to take a good look at him. Mainly just because a day when Puck gets a chance to do that is a good day. He’s wearing tight grey pants that disappear into his bright purple boots, a shirt that might be white or it might be a really pale version of some other color, a purple-ish plaid blazer, and a purple scarf that Puck has no doubt is more functional than Kurt would let on. When Kurt gets the sticker fixed to his satisfaction, he looks up and catches Puck’s eye, then smirks a little.

“It is Tuesday, baby,” he whispers, striding past Puck and barely brushing against him. Puck rocks back on his heels and shakes his head, resisting the impulse to whistle, instead heading towards history.

He stops at his teacher’s desk and points to the sticker on his shirt when she looks up.

“Already?” she asks, surprised.

Puck shrugs. “Polls opened at 6:30 or something crazy. Why not?”

She nods for a moment. “What did you think of the voting experience, Mr. Puckerman?”

“Pretty quick. I guess there’s not much turnout? Oh! And the wording was really tricky on the second one. If you want to repeal the bill, you actually have to vote no.”

“Interesting.” She makes a mark in her book and smiles at Puck, so he nods and goes to sit down next to Finn.

“Hey, man,” Finn says, with a little nod of his head. “You voted?”

“I did,” Puck affirms. “I Ohio Voting.” He points to the sticker and makes a face.

“You Ohio...oh, ‘cause Ohio’s supposed to look like a heart, right?” Finn shakes his head. “I dunno about you, but I think it’s shaped like an armpit.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, pretty much. I think the old lady about fell over that there was anyone there under the age of fifty.”

“Well, I’d go, but,” Finn shrugs. “Not old enough, you know?”

“So close and yet so far.”

“Oh well. I’ll be able to vote for the president, at least.”

“True.” Puck shakes his head. “One of the three things to vote on? How old judges should be allowed to be. This is what we’re reduced to in the name of democracy.”

“So they want to, like, make them retire or something? If they’re too old?” Finn asks. “Or do they want to make them have to be older to _be_ judges?”

“Make them stop being judges. They want to change it so even older people can still be judges. But what if they have, like, Alzheimer’s or something, right?”

“Yeah, so maybe I’m glad I’m not old enough to vote yet!” Finn exclaims. “I don’t want to be the one to tell somebody, sorry dude, you’re too old.”

Puck grins. “Yeah, maybe you should be glad, then.” Their teacher clears her throat then and starts class, so Puck closes his mouth and starts to take notes on Peter the Great.

After English, Rachel falls into step with Puck. “Oh, I’m so envious! I won’t even be able to vote in the general election next year.”

Puck shrugs. “Yeah, that kinda sucks. But at least you can probably just register in New York?”

Rachel gives him a secretive sort of smile and then brightens. “Oh, that’s true! Where our votes might be reflected in the results!”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Puck laughs, and then they walk into the choir room.

Santana looks over at them and does a double take. “ _You_ voted?”

“I totally Ohio voting,” Puck says. “I also Ohio extra credit.” He shrugs and sits down.

“I would Ohio those, too,” Brittany says, very seriously, and Puck spares a moment to wonder what Brittany thinks ‘Ohio’ means in that context.

“I’m going to vote after school,” Quinn interjects. “Is anyone else old enough to vote yet?”

“I am,” Mike says with a nod. “I don’t know if I’m going to vote, though, because I don’t know what the issues really are.”

“And Kurt is,” Rachel adds.

“Oh, that’s right,” Quinn nods. “Well. I think it’s important. People shouldn’t be forced to accept Obamacare.”

Puck turns his head and raises one eyebrow as he looks at her. “Seriously?”

Even Finn looks confused. “So...insurance is _bad_?” He shakes his head.

“ _Millions_ are going to lose insurance, and the federal government is going to tell your doctor what to do to treat you,” Quinn says with a shake of her head.

“Pretty sure the President and the rest of the government has better things to do than worry about what painkillers to prescribe when I get beat up or whatever,” Puck shakes his head.

“How about we avoid the need for painkillers?” Rachel interjects. “That would be better, wouldn’t it?” She looks over at Finn then, for some reason. Finn looks a little guilty.

“Some things can’t be avoided,” Finn says, vaguely.

“Oh, look, Kurt Ohios voting, too!” Brittany says as Kurt slips into the room. “Let’s find out what he thinks about–what did you call it, Quinn?”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he shakes his head fractionally. “Oh, I don’t discuss how I vote,” he says airily.

“Party pooper,” Santana scoffs. “We were getting ready to have a proper debate about Obamacare.”

“I’m still confused,” Mike adds.

“I am, too,” Finn confesses, “other than that Quinn thinks we shouldn’t get punched because the President wants to change our prescriptions.”

“I am suddenly _really_ glad that your birthday isn’t for another nine days,” Kurt says with a shake of his head, “and not just because I’m still waiting on part of your birthday present to ship.”

“Ooh, what is it!” Finn looks giddy.

“You don’t get to find out until your _birthday_ ,” Kurt says patiently. “That’s why it’s called a birthday present.” Finn’s face falls into a mock sulk.

“Were we going to practice or anything today?” Puck asks, amused.

Finn sighs dramatically. “If I can survive not getting any hints about my present. I mean, it’s touch and go on that.”

“Just don’t go snooping to try to find it,” Kurt warns.

“I’d never snoop,” Finn protests. “Well, not much.” He snorts a little. “Ok, let’s get started. We should try running through all the songs as a set.”

“Well, get up there, then, Herman,” Puck snorts, grabbing his guitar.

Finn makes a face at Puck before grabbing Rachel by the hand and hauling her to the front of the classroom.

 

Tuesday afternoon passes quickly, which Puck appreciates, and he heads out the door just head of the final bell, grinning as he throws his stuff in the back and climbs into the passenger seat. “Hey, blue eyes.”

“Hello, yourself.” Kurt’s grin matches Puck’s. “I heard a rumor you might like to go back to my place?”

“I could definitely be persuaded,” Puck agrees, nodding.

“Oh, good.” Kurt drives a little more quickly than sometimes, but Puck doesn’t complain, picking up Kurt’s hand and wrapping their fingers together. They walk into the house relatively slowly, hand in hand, and they pause to remove their shoes before heading up the stairs at the same slow pace.

Puck drops his backpack on the floor and Kurt does the same with his bag, then slides out of his jacket. Puck grins and steps forward, one hand on Kurt’s cheek, and kisses him slowly, lips closed, his other hand resting on Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt pulls away slowly and slides his hands under Puck’s sweatshirt and then the wifebeater underneath it, forcing the fabric upward, and Puck raises his arms so Kurt can slide both of the shirts off. Kurt drops them both on the floor, his hands going to Puck’s waistband immediately, and Puck shifts closer to him, running a hand through Kurt’s hair. Kurt leans his head into the touch as he quickly divests Puck of his jeans and underwear both.

“This somehow seems unfair,” Puck says, mock-frowning. “I’m completely nude, and you’re still wearing clothes.”

“Sometimes, baby, life isn’t fair.” Kurt smirks and presses his flat palm against Puck’s erection. “Is it?”

Puck narrows his eyes a little and shakes his head, but he presses into Kurt’s touch. “Still.”

Kurt moves his hand and slowly unbuttons his shirt, discarding it in the floor (and who would believe Puck if he told them _that_?) before removing his undershirt as well. Puck isn’t sure how, but he manages to do both of those things without really moving his scarf at all. “Better?”

“Yes.” Puck closes the gap between them, lowering his mouth to Kurt’s pale shoulder. He licks and kisses his way slowly down Kurt’s arm to his hand. He moves to the other shoulder and repeats the same motions down that arm, Kurt’s limbs soft and relaxed. When he finishes with that arm, he captures Kurt’s lips, this time swiping his tongue across Kurt’s lips immediately. Kurt’s mouth yields and their tongues meet, twining slowly around each other. Puck puts his arms around Kurt’s waist, relishing the feel of Kurt’s body against his.

Kurt moves away one step after a long moment, slowly unbuckling his belt and then sliding off his pants and underwear together. He reaches out and takes Puck’s hand, tugging him the remaining distance to the bed. Puck slides under the covers next to Kurt, then turns on his side, pressing against Kurt’s chest as Kurt’s arms wrap around him.

“Mmm.” Kurt’s breath skates across Puck’s neck. “I want you, baby.”

“You got me, blue eyes,” Puck smiles and stretches a little.

“Yes,” Kurt agrees, his hands running over Puck’s chest. “I do.” He starts kissing Puck’s shoulders and the back of his neck, and Puck can feel Kurt’s lips curve into a smile. “I think,” he says after a minute, “that you want something, too.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, sliding onto his back and pressing a kiss to Kurt’s lip. “You.”

“Mmm, I can oblige.” Kurt grins and rolls away for a second, opening his drawer. “So I actually hid Finn’s birthday presents in that drawer,” he adds, closing it. “I figured if he dared snoop in the bedside table, he’d see the lube and close it in a hurry.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, probably.” He grins and kisses Kurt again, then rolls back onto his side as Kurt rocks his hips forward.

“Nice and slow, baby,” Kurt murmurs, and a single slicked finger pushes steadily into Puck.

He catches his breath, holding himself still, and Kurt just continues moving his finger forward until it’s fully inside Puck, the tip twitching and exploring as Kurt rotates his hand slightly. Puck lets his eyes close, concentrating on the feel of Kurt’s finger deep inside him. He jumps slightly as a second finger slides alongside the first, slowly stretching him. Puck wriggles a little, shifting towards Kurt, and he can hear Kurt stifle a giggle. Puck moves again, more deliberately, and Kurt’s giggles escape just as he adds a third finger. “Mmm, yeah,” Puck breathes.

Kurt moves his fingers in and out of Puck slowly, exploring inside him, until Puck is practically quivering, his hips moving arhythmically. “Ready?” Kurt whispers into Puck’s ear, and Puck just nods. “Good,” Kurt says, nipping at Puck’s ear, and then his fingers disappear, and Puck impatiently listens until until he feels Kurt’s cock at his entrance, nudging carefully inside him. Puck moves his top leg up and out of the way as much as possible.

Kurt breaches him slowly, and Puck arches towards Kurt as Kurt throws one arm around Puck’s chest, holding him tightly. Puck takes long, deep breaths, feeling himself give and relax around Kurt. Kurt stills for only a moment before beginning to move, his thrusts deep and slow. Puck picks up Kurt’s hand and brings it to his mouth, slowly sucking each digit before moving to the next.

Puck angles his neck as Kurt’s lip brush over his shoulder and then up his neck, teasing at his earlobe, still thrusting in the same steady rhythm. Puck rolls his hips, meeting each thrust, and twists his head, Kurt’s lips brushing against his. It’s slow and Puck loses himself in it, unaware of how much time has passed before Kurt’s hand slides down, encircling Puck’s erection, and then Puck tunes back in enough to hear the deep hum in Kurt’s throat and feel the way he’s starting to tense against Puck’s back. He thrusts into Kurt’s hand as it tightens around him, and he knows that they’re both so close. Puck turns his head again, running his tongue along Kurt’s lips and then plunging it deep into Kurt’s mouth, Kurt returning the gesture, and with a final downward stroke, Kurt sends Puck over the edge. His cries swallowed by Kurt’s mouth, he clenches around Kurt, who thrusts in almost uncoordinatedly before exploding inside Puck.

The best part about this position, Puck absently thinks, is that no one really has to move right away. Sure, his leg is a little tired, but it’s not a big deal. Kurt’s hand leaves Puck’s cock and travels back up to his chest, smearing fluid along the way, but Puck doesn’t particularly care in the moment.

They lie there content for a long moment before Kurt slowly withdraws, and Puck turns after he does so, draping his arm over Kurt and kissing him carefully. Puck loses track of time again as they lie there, exchanging kisses and whispered words, Kurt pulling the covers over their heads and cocooning them inside the warm layers.

The sudden blaring of Puck’s phone is an intrusion, and Puck grimaces when he realizes it’s his mom calling. “Better take it,” he sighs, rolling out of bed and rummaging in his jeans until he pulls out his phone. “Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, good, Noah, I got ahold of you. I totally forgot to ask you to keep an eye on Hannah tonight while I’m up at your school. Can you and Kurt pick her up from after-care and take her home? There’s some cash on the kitchen table, you can order pizza or go down to Joey’s for dinner.”

Puck sighs. “Yeah, all right.” He glances at Kurt’s clock. Fuck. More time had passed than he had thought. “We got it, Mom.”

“Thank you so much! I’ll see you this evening, Noah.” With that, she hangs up, and Puck shakes his head, looking at his phone.

“What is it?” Kurt asks, and Puck turns back to the bed to smile at Kurt, still mostly hidden by the covers.

“Mom forgot about Hannah. I mean, she didn’t _forget_ about her, she just forgot to make sure someone was around to pick her up and watch her while Mom goes to the Parent/Teacher Night shindig.”

“Ah.” Kurt sits up then, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “So we need to go pick her up?”

“Ayup. There’s cash for dinner at home, though, apparently. So that’s something.”

“We can swing by and get it before we get Hannah, pick up dinner after we get her.” Kurt’s pulling his clothes back on now, and Puck goes to follow suit. Once Kurt’s dressed, he starts to unpack his bag and then repack it before shouldering it. Puck picks up his own backpack and follows Kurt down the stairs. It takes Kurt longer to put on his boots, and Puck can’t help running his hand over Kurt’s ass while he’s bent over. Kurt just shakes his ass a little, and Puck laughs.

“C’mon, blue eyes. Let’s go shake our booties at the elementary school.”

“I’m sure they would wholeheartedly approve,” Kurt nods, finishing tying his boots and straightening.

Puck does run into the apartment and grab the cash his mom left and then they go to get Hannah. Most of the teachers nod at Puck, recognizing him either as a former student or as Hannah’s brother. Halfway to the gym, Puck starts to reach for Kurt’s hand, then rolls his eyes at himself and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Hey,” he greets the teacher at the door. “Here to get Hannah Puckerman.”

This teacher must be new, or a substitute, because she looks at him suspiciously, then at Kurt. “I’ll need to see some identification.”

“Ooo-kay,” Puck pulls out his wallet and shows her his license. “Pretty sure I’m on the approved list.”

She makes a big show of scrutinizing his name and his picture, then comparing it to Hannah’s file, before calling Hannah over. “Perverts,” she mutters under her breath, handing Puck back his license, and he just raises his eyebrows.

“Also, pretty sure you, as an employee of Lima City Schools, aren’t supposed to say that to us, students in said school system.”

She looks a little embarrassed, but that may be because Puck heard her. Kurt just shakes his head and sighs, and Hannah runs up before anything else can be said. “Noah! You brought Kurt!” She grins and picks up her bag. “Where’s Mom?”

“Parent/Teacher night at my school, squirt.”

“Ooh, does that mean we get to eat out?”

“Yep.” They head out of the doors, Puck giving one last look at the teacher near the door, who Hannah informs them is a substitute.

“So what are we having?”

“Mom suggested pizza or Joey’s, but we can do whatever,” Puck shrugs.

“What about Breadstix?”

Puck and Kurt glance at each other immediately. They’d never discussed it; it was just something that they’d both intuitively understood, somehow. They didn’t go to Breadstix, and they wouldn’t until after graduation. They knew about all the hidden gems of restaurants in Lima, because they avoided the most obvious one.

“Nah,” Puck shakes his head after too long of a moment has passed.

“Captain D’s?” is Hannah’s next offering, and Puck shrugs.

“Yeah, all right. Or we could just do Red Lobster?”

“Really?” Hannah’s eyes are huge. “That’d be awesome!”

“Sure, why not?” Yeah, he’ll have to chip in some of his own money, but it’s not a big deal.

Kurt tosses him the keys as they reach the Nav, and Puck raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He doesn’t have a problem with Kurt driving Hannah, not at all, but it’s cool that Kurt actually considers it.

Hannah spends the entire trip talking about school and people in her class, especially Rebecca and Stevie, and Kurt’s grin is just a little too smug for Puck’s comfort. She’s only eight is what keeps going through his mind.

Even the food doesn’t really get her to stop talking much, but it’s good food and at least they’ll all comfortably full when they leave.

“Hannah, homework,” Puck commands when they get back to the apartment.

“Noahh,” she whines, but Puck just points towards her room.

“Tell me if you need help with math or spelling, okay?”

“Okay.” She sulks to her room, but he can hear her unzipping her backpack, so he sits down on the couch next to Kurt and does the same.

“You know, Mom wanted to put her in one of the new magnet schools they started this year, but Hannah talked her out of it. I think I’m glad.”

“Why?”

“I’d probably end up being the one to fulfill the parent volunteer hour requirement,” Puck grumbles. “Don’t get me wrong, K. Mom’s great, but sometimes.”

Kurt just nods and pulls Puck to him. “Yeah. It’s okay, baby.”

They work for about an hour before Puck makes Hannah get ready for bed, and he’s just turned out her light when Rina comes in.

“Oh, good, everything went fine?”

“Yep. No worries,” Puck assures her.

“I was stunned, Noah,” Rina says, sinking into a chair. “Simply stunned. Your history teacher made sure to tell me that you were ‘polite and respectful.’ Your English teacher remarked that you were ‘insightful.’ I wondered if they had the wrong kid!”

“Really?” Puck raises his eyebrows. “Hey, that website really does work, K,” he grins, and Kurt just laughs, shaking his head.

“I had to go back and talk to your physics teacher after that, who just said you were quiet and attentive.” She shakes her head. “And of course I saw that Mr. Schuester, who rambled on to all of us about glee club and how wonderful all twelve of you are and he’s amazed at your talent and dedication, blah blah blah. Does the man have an obsession with writing on whiteboards?”

“Yes,” Kurt and Puck answer together, laughing.

“And you didn’t tell me that you were doing an independent study for an AP class!”

“I did! I told you I was doing music theory.”

“You didn’t say it was so... special.”

Puck shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe they do that kind of thing for other classes and just, you know. Nobody talks about it.”

“Maybe.” Rina looks skeptical. “So I was, in fact, very surprised.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her purse and hands it to Puck. “There’s your grades for this quarter. Ms. Pillsbury said to tell you that’s what they’ll send on since the next grades aren’t issued until the end of January.”

“Oh.” Puck takes the card from her but doesn’t look at it.

“I’m going to say good night to Hannah and take a long bath. Night, boys!”

Puck stares after her for a moment. “Last night, it was all about how you should leave, and tonight she just pretty much announced that she wasn’t going to bother us again, and it’s not even nine yet.”

“Stop distracting yourself, baby,” Kurt says gently.

“It’s just.” Puck frowns. “I _know_ I don’t have the right profile to get into MSM or Mannes, not unless they’re willing to take a chance on me. And I have to get to the auditions for that to be likely, you know? And Ms. P said that these grades might make a difference. Well, and an A in my music class at OSU-Lima, but that I know I pretty much have.”

“I know,” Kurt nods. “But you’ve worked _really_ hard, Puck. What did she say specifically?” He takes the card from Puck’s hands and turns it over.

“Um. She said two As and two Bs would be good. Obviously if one of the As was in music theory that would be good. And she said maybe English but any of them, it’d be good.” He looks over at Kurt, then, who’s peeking at the card and biting his lip. “What?”

“I think you’re good, baby,” Kurt grins, handing it over. “Two As, an A-, and one B.”

“Yeah? Really?” Puck looks over the grades and blinks, because he’s not sure he’s reading it right. “I got three As, basically?”

“You did.” Kurt grins. “Now, granted, you did get that B in English, but surely the extra A will make up for that.”

“Yeah. Holy shit.”

Kurt laughs. “See what actually doing homework can do for you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck sticks out his tongue. “More like see what having a slave-driver for a boyfriend will do for you.”

“I think that works out to the same thing,” Kurt grins devilishly.

Puck purses his lips and then nods. “Yeah, probably so.” He matches Kurt’s grin, then, before leaning over and kissing him thoroughly. “Maybe this’ll all work out, blue eyes.”

“I know it will,” Kurt says confidently, squeezing Puck’s hand.

Later, after Kurt leaves, Puck wanders into the kitchen, digging for a snack, and leans against the counter, deep in thought. His mind flits between his grades, what his mom said his teachers said, what that substitute teacher said to them, and the fact that his mom forgot to make sure he could watch Hannah. Before he can settle on any one topic and explore it too deeply, his phone rings.

“Hey, blue eyes.”

“Hi. Made it home. Got my grades, too.”

“Yeah? How’d you do?”

“Same as you in physics, unsurprisingly–A minus.”

“It’s like we study together or something.”

“I know, shocking, really,” Kurt agrees. Puck can hear him moving around and the rattle of hangers. “B in stats, equally unsurprising. Maybe I really did get extra credit for voting, though.”

Puck laughs. “Probably not, K.”

“No, probably not,” Kurt agrees, and Puck can hear him fussing with something. “And another A minus in English. Which means that technically you have better grades than I do.”

“You’re in AP English, though, doesn’t that give you extra points or something?”

“On my GPA, yes, technically.”

“And you’re probably pulling, what, straight As for your dual enrollment classes?”

“Stop trying to downplay it,” Kurt scolds him, and Puck can hear the smile in his voice. “The _point_ is–I’m proud of you, Puck.”

Puck grins slowly. “Thanks, K.” He clears his throat. “You did good, too, you know that, right? I know you worked hard for that stats grade.”

“I did,” Kurt agrees, “and thank you.” He sighs. “It’s late. We lost track of time after your mom got home. Sweet dreams, baby.”

“You too, blue eyes. Be good.”

“I’m always good.”

 

Kurt works steadily throughout Wednesday afternoon, one of his dad’s usual employees out sick and the other having to leave early thanks to a sick kid. “You can tell it’s November,” Kurt remarks, and his dad just nods. Kurt closes up the office and then moves back into the garage to the car up on the lift.

He’s just finished the first step of removing the old brake pads when Burt makes a little noise that’s halfway between a cough and clearing his throat. “Are you all right, Dad?” Kurt pulls his head out from under the car to look at Burt. “Are you getting sick, too?”

“Uh, no,” Burt mumbles. “‘M fine. I just, uh. I think that maybe we oughta. Uh. We oughta...” he trails off.

“Is there something else wrong with this one?” Kurt asks. “You said it was just the brakes. Or is there a different one we should be working on?”

“It’s not about the car, Kurt,” Burt says. “It’s. Well, Carole thinks that I should.” Burt makes a face and shakes his head.

Kurt’s pretty sure he just went really pale, but he tries not to react otherwise. “Should what, Dad?” he manages to say evenly, even though his mind is insisting that Rina finally talked to Carole, or Carole finally talked to his dad, or something like that.

“So, I think maybe it’s time we had another talk,” Burt finishes, lamely.

Kurt nods, and turns back to the brake pads before answering. “All right.” He’s very proud of himself; his voice is steady and not shaky.

“About you, and, uh, and Puck,” Burt adds, as though Kurt doesn’t understand what Burt’s talking about.

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt says, nodding, even though he’s not sure that his dad can see his head at all.

“So, uh,” Burt mutters. “You should maybe let the brakes alone for a minute or two, so we can do this thing.”

Kurt sighs. _So much for that plan._ He carefully finishes the small portion of the job he’s started, and then steps out from underneath the car. “All right.”

“Here, we should sit down,” Burt says, gesturing to the chairs. “I need to sit down, anyway.”

“Okay.” Kurt nods, a little too vigorously and for a little too long, and moves towards the chairs, perching on the edge of one.

“Alright, well. Geez, Kurt, I don’t know how to talk about this stuff, so, I guess I’ll just say it. Carole and I, we’re aware that you and Puck are, uh, are having...adult time together.” Burt flushes red and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Oh.” Kurt swallows a few times, blushing himself. “I... I see.” He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “What, um...”

“They don’t really have pamphlets for this,” Burt sighs. “I mean, they probably have pamphlets or something for _you_ , but they don’t have step by step instructions for me on how I’m supposed to talk to you about all of this.”

Kurt takes a deep breath; even though he was sort of expecting this, he hadn’t really prepared for it. “Well. I, um.” He’s sure he’s blushing even harder. “I suppose. You just. Say what you think is important?”

Burt exhales loudly. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that. Uh, first, I wanted to make sure that, uh, I mean, Puckerman’s...he’s using, uh, protection with you, right?”

“Um.” Kurt looks at his dad closely, tilting his head back and forth. “You, um. Wow. Okay, this is _really_...” he trails off. “Awkward. Very awkward. First of all.” Kurt takes a deep breath. “We’re both clean. Tested. So.”

“So? Uh, that’s good, but, I mean, you can’t be too careful,” Burt says, still not really making eye contact with Kurt. “I’m glad you’re both, uh, healthy.”

“And, um.” Kurt takes a deep breath. “Just... be careful in your assumptions, please?” He tries for a shaky smile, but he’s not really looking directly at Burt, either.

Burt looks at Kurt blankly for a few moments. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have implied that your boyfriend might have a disease. It’s just, he’s got more of a, um, _history_ than you, so...”

Kurt winces. “That... wasn’t the assumption I meant.”

Burt continues to look roughly in Kurt’s direction with a vaguely confused look on his face, then another expression seems to break through the blank look. First Burt blinks a little, and then he cocks his head to the side, and finally his face turns bright red and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, like a landed fish, making a sputtering noise.

“Oh. Uh. Oh. Okay. Sorry. I, uh. Sorry.” Burt’s eyes flicker to the door like he’s considering making a hasty escape.

“It’s, um. All right.” Kurt smiles shakily again. “Just, uh. You know. Thought I’d be clear.”

“So...he hasn’t been, you know,” Burt clears his throat. “Pressuring you? Or anything like that?”

Kurt looks somewhat askance at Burt. “No, Dad,” he says firmly, shaking his head.

“Now, about the Wisconsin trip,” Burt says, his voice sounding a little stronger. “You’re not trying to get out of it so you can come back here and...you know? With Puck.”

Kurt groans. “Dad. I already explained it to you. Especially since the three of you decided to spend Tuesday night in Madison, too; I’d miss three full days and we have the PFLAG assembly that Friday.”

Burt sighs. “I just want you to know that I’m not real happy about this, Kurt. I just, I shouldn’t have had to find out from Carole.”

“I didn’t...” Kurt frowns. “It’s not–I honestly thought you’d prefer not to actually _know_.”

“Kurt,” Burt says, with another heavy sigh. “I don’t _like_ knowing, believe me. But you’re still my kid and you’re still living in my house, and I don’t like feeling like you think you have to sneak around and keep secrets from me.”

Kurt thinks for a moment before responding. “I’m sorry, then. It’s not...” His volume drops and he sighs a little. “I keep a lot of secrets. Not from you, per se, just... in general.”

“Keeping secrets is one of those things that can turn into a habit pretty quick,” Burt says. “And it can cross the line from secrecy to lying pretty easily, too. I just, I don’t want you becoming _that_ guy, Kurt. I know you’re a private person, but I like to think you’ve always been an honest one, too.”

“You think I’ve been lying to you?” Kurt furrows his brow.

“I don’t know what to think, Kurt,” Burt sighs. “I mean, this time last year, if I even talked about sex, you’d stick your fingers in your ears. And now?” Burt shakes his head. “And there’s suddenly all these new glee practices and all this extra studying, and I don’t know if all of that’s real or if it’s just the thing you tell your old man so he doesn’t ask any questions.”

“Oh, god, talk to Finn,” Kurt groans. “We created a _monster_ , it’s all practice, rehearse, work on this.” He shakes his head. “Aside from that... it’s very easy to get behind. And I am taking three dual enrollment classes and an AP class, Dad.”

‘Yeah, I know you’re taking lots of hard classes, and I’m real proud of you. You get your smarts from your mom.” Burt smiles a little wistfully. “But what’s this with Finn turning into a monster?”

“Well. You saw our performance at Invitationals.” He waits for Burt to nod, then continues. “That’s one of the best performances we have _ever_ done, because we actually practiced ahead of time. And I may have suggested to Finn that, as our de facto leader, perhaps he could take a lead in arranging things so that we were able to perform so well at our actual competitions.”

“I didn’t realize Finn was so obsessed with that stuff,” Burt replies, puzzled. “I know he enjoys glee, but you guys are having a lot of practices now, aren’t you?”

“We didn’t realize he would be, either,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “And yes, we are. I fully expect him to increase them in another week, once he realizes how close Sectionals are.”

Burt shakes his head. “So the practices are really practices, and the studying’s really studying. And you’re really planning on staying with Rachel and her dad’s while we’re in Wisconsin?”

“Leroy even said he was looking forward to it. I think maybe he’s hoping that I’ll bring some pork with me. Or even just something non-vegan.”

“That poor man,” Burt murmurs. “That’s just no way to live.”

Kurt grins a little. “No, probably not.”

“Well,” Burt abruptly huffs a loud breath. “So. You probably wanna finish those brakes, huh?”

“It would be good to get home sometime before midnight, yes,” Kurt says, his grin widening.

“Then we’ll get back to work,” Burt nods. “And, uh, just keep being careful. I love you and I wouldn’t want to have to beat up your boyfriend.” He winks at Kurt.

Kurt shakes his head but keeps smiling. “I love you, too, Dad.” He stands up and embraces Burt for a long moment. “And that would be distressing, yes.”

 

Puck’s a little surprised to find a text from Kurt waiting for him when he finishes up at work, so he checks it before he leaves the building.

 _Call me when you won’t be overheard. Dad ‘talked’ to me tonight. I think I’m scarred. For life._

Puck snorts back a laugh but then his eyes widen because that means that Burt knows, and suddenly dinner at Hudmel household the next night looks a little scarier. Still, he’s got a ten or fifteen minute walk home.

“Hi!” Puck can hear Kurt turning off music and then shutting his door.

“Hey. So I guess Mom did talk to Carole.”

“I guess so,” Kurt groans. “At least he waited until we were at the shop. I can only imagine if Finn happened to overhear anything. Or tried to contribute.” Kurt sighs, and Puck can hear him moving around. Probably on his bed. The thought makes Puck grip his phone a little more tightly. “Except he called it, oh god. ‘Adult time together.’”

Puck laughs. “Seriously? We have adult time together?”

“Yes.” Puck can almost see Kurt rolling his eyes. “And then he started asking about condoms, because of course that’s the only way we could possibly safe, and of course only one of us would ever be needing to wear one, and god, baby, it was the strangest conversation.”

“Wait, what? Only one of us would... Oh. _Oh_.” Puck shakes his head. “Don’t... Yeah, I don’t know, blue eyes.” He chuckles for a minute.

“And he basically said I wanted to come back from Wisconsin early so we could fuck.”

“Which we probably _will_.”

“Yes, but that’s just because it’s Tuesday,” Kurt says, almost dismissively. “I mean. Of course we’re probably going to sometime between when I get back and when they get back. But that’s not _why_ I’m coming back.”

“Oh, it’s not?” Puck smirks, dropping his voice slightly.

Kurt giggles. “Stop it. Okay, so it’s not the _main_ reason I’m coming back.”

“That’s what I thought.” Puck’s voice is full of satisfaction.

“Don’t you have homework to do or something, instead of teasing your poor traumatized boyfriend?”

“Still walking home,” Puck says easily.

“Damn. Well, so I have no idea what to expect after this. He’s probably going to blow a gasket about Chicago. Ironically, moreso if he knows how much planning we’ve done without asking. Ugh.”

“You think so?” Puck asks, surprised.

“He seemed almost more upset over the fact that I hadn’t come to him and been like, hey Dad! Guess what? Having sex now! than he was by the actual sex part. I don’t know. I don’t get it.” Kurt sighs again. “I’ll figure it out, though. Oh. Apparently your mom bumped into Dad and Carole last night and so now we’re all having Thanksgiving dinner together. So that’s good. Mostly.”

“Late afternoon, right?”

“Yes, I asked Carole. You work until 2:30, right?”

“Yeah, opening until 2:30 for five days straight. But hey, it’ll be a nice paycheck.”

“I thought about convincing Dad we should open for a couple of hours on Thanksgiving morning. Eight until ten or something. People would probably love it.”

“Stay open late on the day before, too,” Puck suggests. “People leaving to go out of town and get a flat or whatever.”

“Oh, good point.”

“I’m almost home, K. You want me to call you back?”

“Sure. I’ll finish up this essay while you talk to your mom and shower, okay?”

“‘Kay. Be good.”

“I’m always good.”

 

Somehow, the entire glee club manages to make it into the choir room before Mr. Schue on Thursday afternoon, and when someone suggests they go to the auditorium for today’s rehearsal, there’s fairly quick agreement. Someone throws a marker at Puck.

“Why do you people keep thinking I need to do all the writing?” Puck grumbles, but he leaves a note for Mr. Schue anyway, and then heads to the auditorium as well.

“I want to go first today,” Santana announces, and no one argues, so she goes up to stand on the stage, tapping her foot until Mr. Schue arrives.

“Oh, great, you’re all ready,” Schue says breathlessly when he appears in the doorway. “You’re going first, Santana?”

“I am,” she confirms, then nods towards Brad for the music to start.

 _Hangin' round downtown by myself  
And I had so much time to sit and think about myself  
And then there she was  
Like double cherry pie  
Yeah there she was  
Like disco superfly  
I smell sex and candy here  
Who's that lounging in my chair  
Who's that casting devious stares in my direction  
Mama this surely is a dream_

“That was ‘Sex and Candy’ by Marcy Playground,” she says sweetly when the music finishes, taking her seat before Schue can comment other than the applause he gives when the rest of them clap.

“I’ll go next,” Sam volunteers before Schue even asks. “I decided on the Genesis classic ‘Invisible Touch’.”

“Nice choice,” Schue nods as Sam climbs onto the stage.

Puck’s not sure he would have pegged Sam as able to pull off Phil Collins, but he does a decent job and the beat is, as always, catchy.

 _She seems to have an invisible touch yeah  
She reaches in, and grabs right hold of your heart  
She seems to have an invisible touch yeah  
It takes control and slowly tears you apart._

 _Well I don't really know her, I only know her name  
But she crawls under your skin, you're never quite the same,  
and now I know  
She's got something you just can't trust  
It's something mysterious  
And now it seems I'm falling, falling for her._

“Fun!” Schue proclaims. “Who’s up next? Finn?”

“Sure, Mr. Schue,” Finn nods. “This is ‘Touch,’ by Bright Eyes.”

 _Touch, lying on the floor  
Wishing this could last  
But knowing that it can't  
And soon you will leave  
And I will be on the floor,  
Watching the tv, trying hard to find a reason to move_

The music is relatively upbeat, but the lyrics are almost melancholy, Puck can’t help but think, and Kurt has his head tilted ever so slightly, the small smile flickering on his lips somehow sad.

 _And there is nothing more I want than just one night  
That's free of doubt and sadness  
One night that I can really feel._

Finn flashes Kurt a small smile, which looks more bitter than joyful, and sits back down next to Rachel, who looks curiously torn and then pats Finn’s hand for a moment.

Schue beams down at Finn. “Oh, nice, a less well-known selection. Who did you say the band was?”

“Bright Eyes,” Finn answers, his voice low and a little thick. He clears his throat like he’s going to say more, but apparently changes his mind and instead, just settles back in his seat, his arm around Rachel.

“Nice, nice,” Schue nods. “Who’s up?”

“I’ll go next,” Artie offers.

“Great. We’ll do one more after that. Who wants to go today?” Kurt raises his arm slightly, and Schue inclines his head towards Kurt. “Great. Artie and then Kurt. These are great choices, guys.”

“I decided on The Who, ‘I Can See for Miles,’” Artie explains after Mike and Finn lift him onto the stage. The band all nods appreciatively and launches into it.

 _I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise  
I know that you have 'cause there's magic in my eyes  
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles  
Oh yeah_

Puck knows he’s been tired and all of that, so he was kind of grateful when people stopped asking him to accompany them on every single song, but he wishes that Artie had asked him for this one, because it’s a pretty awesome song and Puck likes The Who. Maybe he’ll have to put the message out there that he’s willing and available for bat-guitar shenanigans again.

“The Who is such a great band,” Schue nods at the end of the song. “Nice job, Artie. Kurt?”

Kurt nods and climbs up the opposite set of stairs as Mike and Finn lift Artie back down. “This is ‘Hear You Me,’ by Jimmy Eat World.”

The music is a little different from what Kurt usually picks, but when Puck hears the lyrics, he nods a little to himself.

 _What would you think of me now,  
So lucky, so strong, so proud?  
I never said thank you for that,  
Now I'll never have a chance.  
May angels lead you in.  
Hear you me my friends.  
On sleepless roads the sleepless go.  
May angels lead you in._

It’s almost somber, and when Kurt finishes, Puck can sing a single tear rolling down one side of Kurt’s nose. Clearly this week’s assignment was not a shiny happy one for the Munsters. The applause is appropriately reserved.

“That was very moving, Kurt, thank you,” Schue says quietly, and Kurt nods before going back down the stairs.

“I think that wraps it up for today,” Schue says after a moment. “You all are welcome to stay in here and practice or whatever, but I have to run.” He beams at them before exiting the room.

“We should start practicing even more. Do you realize that Sectionals is only three weeks from Saturday!” Rachel bursts out as soon as Schue leaves the auditorium.

Finn nods somberly. “I think we need to add a practice on Saturday. What time will work best for everyone?”

“Saturday afternoon?” Rachel suggests.

“Can we all bring our application essays, too?” Tina suggests. “I cannot let my mother look at mine one more time, but I need other eyes on it.”

“Yes,” Finn says, after a moment of thinking about it. “We’ll rehearse and then we’ll take some time to work on application stuff, anybody who’s interested in that. But rehearing _first_.”

“Where?” Mike calls out. “I can’t host on Saturday and Sunday both.”

“Dad and Carole will probably be fine with us meeting at our house,” Kurt offers. “That way he knows it’s really a glee rehearsal,” he adds in a mutter.

Finn looks at Kurt oddly for a moment, then shakes his head. “Ok, our place, then.”

“One o’clock?” Rachel asks. “Everyone can eat lunch first, that way. We can order pizza for dinner if we’re still there then.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Santana speaks up. “All right, I’m outta here. Later, losers.” She grins and heads out the door, linking pinkies with Brittany as she passes her and hauling Brittany along with her.

Her sentiments are generally echoed as everyone makes their way out of the auditorium. Puck snorts in amusement when he realizes the last four left are he, Kurt, Finn, and Rachel. “We did finish the song,” he says, smirking.

Kurt shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Old habits die hard, smartass.”

“That’s right, my ass _is_ smart.”

“Braggart,” Kurt grins, walking over to him before turning back to Finn. “See you at home?”

Finn shakes his head at Kurt and Puck’s bantering, but grins a little and says, “Sure, see ya there.”

Puck just nods and turns to walk out beside Kurt, bumping his shoulder lightly against Kurt’s. “You okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” Kurt nods. “I just. She died around this time of the year. So, I don’t know.”

“Yeah. When?”

“The nineteenth. A week from Saturday.” Kurt sighs a little and unlocks the Nav. Once they’re inside, Puck takes Kurt’s hand and squeezes it gently.

“It was a Monday evening. I was eight. Dad says she always went grocery shopping on Monday evenings. ‘The stores are emptiest then!’” Kurt smiles sadly. “But it was apparently a great time for someone to be drunk. They ran the red light and broadsided my mom’s car.”

“Oh, blue eyes,” Puck murmurs.

“Dad says... they assured him it was instantaneous. That she didn’t feel any pain. So that’s good.” Kurt shakes his head. “It was unseasonably warm the day of her funeral. Not hot, but not cold like it is right now. I remember things like that. How shiny the police officer’s badge was when he came to the door.”

Puck picks up Kurt’s other hand and squeezes both of them between his, still quiet.

“I miss her, but it’s going to have been ten years, now. I worry that I miss the idea of her more than her, as I get older.”

“I think she’d be amazed,” Puck says quietly. “And very, very proud of you.”

Kurt smiles, and if it’s a little watery, neither of them’s going to be telling anyone else. “Thanks.”

Puck returns the smile. “Anytime, blue eyes.”

Dinner is less awkward than Puck anticipates, maybe because he forgets about the talk Kurt had with Burt until the meal is more than half over, and Burt doesn’t say anything or look askance when they go upstairs to do homework. That may be because Finn’s in his room across the hall, but either way, Puck’s not going to complain. He really doesn’t want to have a talk of his own with Burt, unless it’s about how stupid veganism is, or how they both happen to hate the Bengals. Which they do. Burt, because he loves the Browns, and Puck because he thinks it’s dumb to name a team after an exotic animal that doesn’t live in Ohio. He hates the Lions, too. The Bears, though. They’re awesome.

Puck stays later than Kurt usually does at the apartment, mainly because he can play the guitar and use Kurt’s piano and actually get work done for his music classes after 8:30 in the evening. When they go back downstairs to the piano, Kurt curls up nearby with a book for his English class, and they both lose track of time until Carole putters by and tells them the time. Kurt jumps a little, and Puck looks up, startled, and then Kurt drives him home, kissing him quickly and softly before Puck jumps out of the Nav and heads upstairs.

 

When Kurt gets home, he stops long enough to put away trash he and Puck forgot when they left, and then climbs the stairs, shrugging off his cardigan as he does so. There’s still light coming out from around Finn’s partially-closed door, so Kurt nudges it farther open with his foot and taps on the doorframe.

“Yeah?” Finn calls out. “Oh, hey Kurt.” Finn is sprawled belly-down on his bed, writing into a spiral-bound notebook. He’s already changed into his pajama bottoms and a raggedy McKinley basketball t-shirt.

“Hi,” Kurt says quietly, shuffling in and sitting on Finn’s desk chair. He resists the urge to spin around in it, even though he’s rarely tempted to do so in his own desk chair.

“What’s up?” Finn asks, glancing up from his notebook and subtly moving his arm to cover whatever he’s writing, obviously trying not to appear like he’s hiding the notebook page.

“I think Mr. Schue was half-convinced our house is a maelstrom of depression and gloom,” Kurt says lightly.

“Is maelstrom the one that means being hateful or is the the one that means tornadoes?” Finn asks, rather absently, as he closes the note book and slides it off the bed.

“Tornadoes,” Kurt confirms.

“Thought so. What’s the hateful one? Something else ‘male’ isn’t it?”

“Malevolent.” Kurt shakes his head a little. “At least he didn’t say anything about it.”

Finn nods. “Well, he doesn’t usually call stuff maelstroms or whatever. It’s usually ‘that’s so interesting’ and ‘wow, what a classic!’”

“He’s always extra enthusiastic for the classics,” Kurt agrees and then sighs. “I don’t know why I picked that song. No, I do know exactly why, but sometimes I hate the way he looks at us, whenever one of us does something more vulnerable.”

Finn’s eyebrows crimp together and his mouth twists a little, and he dips his head into a little angled nod, like he’s agreeing, but also has some thoughts of his own about it. “Do you ever think that maybe he’s, I dunno...disappointed in us? Like he thought he was gonna get something out of glee that he’s not getting any more?”

Kurt thinks about it for a minute, his head cocked to one side, and then nods. “Probably. I think on some level he’d like to have a group of kids in their first year of glee club, every year.”

“It was different the first year,” Finn says. “I mean, I hadn’t ever had anybody like Mr. Schue be interested in me before. Nobody ever really thought I was good for anything other than sports. After a while, though...I don’t really need another cheerleader, you know? I need someone who can actually help me figure stuff out, and I don’t think Schue can do that for me.”

“No, I don’t think so. I think it’s _good_ that he teaches mostly freshmen and sophomores and not as many juniors and seniors. Freshmen need cheerleaders, in a way.” He clears his throat and looks straight at Finn. “ _Are_ you okay?”

Finn shrugs and ducks his head a bit. “Eh. You know. Stuff.”

“Yes, I do know, which is why I’m asking,” Kurt says wryly.

“It’s just, now we’re planning this Wisconsin trip,” Finn sighs, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the ceiling as he talks, hands clasped across his stomach. “It all seems realer and, I dunno, closer. To the end.”

Kurt nods. “I know. The inexorable march of time.” He laughs a little. “Do you feel unsupported because I’m coming back sooner than the rest of you? I think Dad thought you might. At first, anyway.”

“What?” Finn tips his head backward so he can look at Kurt, albeit upside down. “Dude, I was pretty sure you were only going _at all_ because you were being supportive. Or maybe ‘cause Burt was afraid that if you stayed here, you might, _you know_...with Puck.”

“We’re apparently calling it ‘adult time together,’ now,” Kurt says, squishing up his face as if in pain.

Finn grimaces. “We are? I don’t have to call it that, do I?”

“Dad decided it was time for another ‘talk,’” Kurt explains, his face still looking pained. “Yesterday.”

“Ouch,” Finn mutters. “That doesn’t sound fun. Has he figured out about the...I seriously don’t have to call it ‘adult time together,’ right?”

Kurt laughs. “I dare you to do it, sometime at school. Otherwise, no. And yes, apparently. I suspect Rina talked to Carole talked to Dad. The assumptions people make? Fascinating.”

“Well, I mean, if they think you’re, _you know_ , and they’re right, is that an assumption? Or is that good guessing?”

“Oh, no, assumptions once they know,” Kurt shakes his head. “You probably don’t want to know.”

Finn looks at Kurt (still upside down) for a while, then finally says, “Nope. Don’t.”

Kurt laughs a little, a small smirk on his lips, and then sighs. “But no, you’re right. Dad still wants me to go the whole time. Because if I kept that a secret, what else am I keeping a secret, am I lying, I don’t know.”

“I could start writing down all the times and places I see you,” Finn offers. “Like a stakeout. Those are usually pretty boring, but it might be better if I can follow you around while I do it. Ooh, and if you knew I was staking you out, you might do something interesting!” Finn seems to perk up a little at the thought.

“Yes, homework and eating are fascinating,” Kurt says dryly. “Don’t forget glee rehearsal. Because clearly I might pretend we have a glee rehearsal when we don’t.”

Finn looks aghast. “We’re already using all the time everybody has available for rehearsals. There isn’t any time left in there to make up a fake rehearsal.”

“I know! Well, technically Puck has more time available than he did when we first set our schedule. We might have another slot now or something, I don’t know.” Kurt shrugs.

“Oh, you think you might have time for another rehearsal?” Finn says, flipping back over onto his stomach and looking interested. “We might need that a little closer to Regionals. I think we’re ok with our Sectionals schedule.”

“Especially once we start rehearsing during our official rehearsals.”

“The ones with Mr. Schue?” Finn shrugs. “Yeah, I guess those will count.”

“Of course, that means he has to think about the set list at some point. Whenever that might be.”

“When’s Sectionals? ‘Cause I’m thinking maybe the Thursday before.”

Kurt snorts. “I know. Seriously. Oh, the costumes did get ordered, though. All three sets.”

“Cool,” Finn says. “They’re gonna be great.”

“I hope so. I’m not sure I actually left myself enough time to make the vests, but as long as the shipping time is accurate, I’ll make it.” Kurt shrugs. “By the way, be thinking–I’ll take a list of up to five items and/or a budget of $100 when I do the day after Thanksgiving sales.”

“You know, I really liked that polo shirt that--”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I am very fun. I just have no sense of humor when it comes to very important things,” Kurt sniffs.

“Yeah, well,” Finn shrugs. “Oh, so, important things. Your song was kind of on the gloomy end today, too. Everything ok with you?”

Kurt shrugs. “It’ll be ten years a week from Saturday.”

“What will--oh.” Understanding crosses Finn’s face. “Oh. I’m sorry, Kurt.”

“Ten years seems like so much longer than nine years, which doesn’t make much sense, but it does anyway,” Kurt says quietly.

Finn nods.

“It also gets harder to remember her. I mean, _all_ my memories from then aren’t as easy to access, so it’s unsurprising, but I hate it all the same.”

Finn sighs. “It sounds awful, but sometimes I think that I have it easier than you. I mean, I don’t have any memories of my dad, and that sucks, but...I don’t have any memories to lose.”

“It sucks either way. They just suck... differently.”

“That’s us, Kurt. Two guys whose lives suck differently.” Finn smiles wryly. “Aren’t we awesome?”

“Munster power.”

“True dat,” Finn replies, offering Kurt his fist for a bump. Kurt grins ruefully and bumps his fist against Finn’s.

 

When Puck walks into the choir room on Friday morning, there’s already a note on the whiteboard, instructing them to go to the auditorium. “Would’ve been too easy to tell us yesterday,” he grumbles.

“That might require forethought,” Kurt says under his breath as he steps into the choir room and then turns right back around.

Puck snorts his agreement, and they walk down the hall, Rachel chattering in between them.

“I can’t wait to see what else we have. I anticipate Mr. Schuester will give us another assignment for next week, as well.”

“He _should_ have us work on our Sectionals set,” Kurt shakes his head. “The week after next is Thanksgiving, and then it’s the week of Sectionals.”

“It’s a good thing we didn’t wait on him,” Puck shrugs.

When they walk into the auditorium, Mr. Schue’s up on the stage, talking to Quinn. After a moment, he steps to the side and raises his voice. “All right, let’s get started. Quinn’s going to go first.”

Quinn launches into “Let’s Hear It for the Boy,” doing a decent job and even incorporating a few little dance steps.

 _And maybe he don't dress fine  
But I don't really mind  
Cause everytime he pulls me near  
I just want to cheer  
Let's hear it for the boy  
Let's give the boy a hand  
Let's hear it for my baby  
You got to understand  
Maybe he's no Romeo  
But he's my loving one man show  
Let's hear it for the boy_

About halfway through the song, though, Puck frowns and mutters. “It doesn’t sound quite right.” He’s ended up between Rachel and Kurt, and it’s Rachel that looks at him and then giggles.

“Have you watched Queer as Folk? They have that nice dance remix.”

“That’s it,” Puck nods. “This seems too slow almost.”

Rachel giggles some more and lowers her voice. “Don’t you just love Brian Kinney?”

Puck wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Not actually a huge fan.”

“Really? Who was your favorite?”

Puck flushes a little and cuts his eyes to the side. “Let’s just say that if I had stopped to think about who my favorite character was for a little while, I probably would have realized other things quicker.”

“Other things... ohh.” Rachel grins but doesn’t say anything else

Quinn finishes the song then, and they all applaud as Schue comments on her execution or something like that.

Mercedes climbs the stairs, then, and starts singing an old Drifters song, “This Magic Moment.” Even though it was originally written for male voices, she’s rearranged it just slightly and made it work for her.

 _Sweeter than wine  
Softer than the summer night  
Everything I want, I have  
Whenever I hold you tight  
This magic moment while your lips are close to mine  
Will last forever, forever till the end of time_

“Oh, lovely, Mercedes,” Mr. Schue says over everyone’s applause.

“Thank you, Mr. Schue,” Mercedes smiles sweetly before taking her seat.

Rachel pops up then, clearly ready to sing her song, and Puck just stares at Kurt’s hand, resting calmly on Kurt’s thigh, wanting to pick it up. Okay, so he’d like to do more than _just_ pick it up, but picking it up would be a nice place to start.

It’s these kind of thoughts that that drive him crazy and start his mind going in circles.

Rachel’s song isn’t one he’s ever heard, though she informs them all that it’s called “Cook with Honey,” and, as she says, “made famous by Judy Collins.” Since Puck’s not the only one who looks confused, he thinks that probably it wasn’t made that famous, but whatever.

The lyrics could sound a little dubious, but she manages somehow to make them completely innocent sounding.

 _I always cook with honey  
To sweeten up the night  
We always cook with honey  
Tell me, hows your appetite  
For some sweet love _

_Find in favor with your neighbor  
Well, it can be so fine  
It’s easier than pie to be kind._

“That was lovely, Rachel,” Schue smiles as they all clap. “Now, next week. A few weeks ago, all the girls did solos and the boys worked as a group, so I’d like to see the reverse of that. No particular theme, thought it’d be great if you all stepped outside your box a little.”

“Of course, Mr. Schue!” Rachel beams at him, still standing on the stage. “I know the girls will definitely consider that.” The rest of the girls seem to be shifting uncomfortably, but Puck ignores them. He just has to figure out how he can ‘step outside his box.’

Whatever his musical box is.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed no one did my favorite song about a sense,” Schue continues. “I mean, Dan Hill, that’s classic stuff.” He points to the band, who starts playing ‘Sometimes When We Touch,’ but he thankfully doesn’t start singing, and the bell rings before they get too far into the song.

 

“I think we’re expected to make an appearance tonight,” Puck says with a sigh as he climbs into the Nav after stats.

“Tonight? Oh, the game. Yes. I think so.” Kurt looks over at him and raises one eyebrow. “Are you up for it? I could make excuses for you.”

“Nah, I’ll be okay, I guess.” Puck shrugs. “It’s gotta happen sometime. At least there’s a few weeks before the Regionals start. And at least one or two of those should be away games, so we can get away with not going. I mean, if you want to, I’m not going to stop you,” Puck adds quickly.

“Please.” Kurt rolls his eyes. “You know as well as I do the main reason I was at most of the games this season.”

“Because my ass looks awesome in tight pants?” Puck smirks.

Kurt purses his lips for a moment and then nods, return the smirk. “Essentially, yes.”

“I’ll just get more pants from that place I got the shorts for my Halloween costume, then,” Puck grins.

“Red.”

“Duly noted,” Puck laughs.

They do head over to the stadium after dinner, Burt and Carole riding with them, and none of the gleeks in the stands say anything about Puck joining them, which Puck appreciates. Rachel pulls him onto the row so that he’s squeezed between her and Kurt, Mercedes on the other side of Kurt and Rachel on the very end of the row. Kurt has a blanket and his hands wrapped around the coffee he stopped on the way to get, and he’s still shivering a little.

“You’re so reptilian,” Puck can’t help but say, laughing.

“I’m going to _freeze_ Sunday and Monday,” Kurt laments. “It’s ten to twenty degress colder in Madison.”

“I don’t know why your dad is making you go at all,” Mercedes shakes her head. “My momma said you were more than welcome to stay the whole time. And I know the Berrys would have let you stay the whole time.”

“Yes, it’s a lot of driving,” Kurt agrees. “I think Dad just wanted to... oh, haven’t we seen that man before?” He points to a small man in a tweed jacket.

Puck narrows his eyes, because he does look familiar, and not just Kurt’s way of deflecting Mercedes’ question. “Yeah. Wasn’t he...”

“He’s the Trojammer coach!” Rachel exclaims. “What is he doing here? We aren’t playing Troy. Are we?”

“Nope, Upper Sandusky,” Puck confirms. “Looks like he’s here... to talk to Coach Beiste.”

Because the little man is, in fact, at the fence, leaning across to talk to Coach Beiste, who is grinning from ear to ear as she responds.

“Interesting,” Kurt smirks. “Don’t you think?”

“Too bad I can’t telepathically tell Sam to drift over towards them to find out what they’re saying,” Mercedes adds, nodding.

“That would be so awesome!” Tina giggles. “I’d love to send thoughts to Mike telepathically, but I don’t think I waste it on something as mundane as Coach Beiste.”

“Girl, your mind is in the gutter.”

“Ladies, ladies, remember we have _two_ other gentlemen joining us today, not just Artie,” Kurt says with a tsk and a shake of the head.

“Oops!” Tina says. “Sorry about that, Puck. Sometimes we start with the ‘girl talk’ up here.”

Puck just raises his eyebrows and shrugs a little, holding his hands up in front of him. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here for the popcorn.”

With that, they proceed to almost talk around him, Artie (on the other side of Rachel) also mostly silent, at least until the game starts. Rachel still doesn’t have a clue about football; Tina is surprisingly knowledgeable. Overall, watching the game isn’t as painful as Puck anticipated, but he’s still a little relieved when the game ends and everyone starts to leave the stands, Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes talking animatedly about plans for an after-game ‘triple date.’ He and Kurt carry Artie down the stairs before heading to the lot.

“Okay?”

“Better than I expected,” Puck admits.

“You want to go watch a DVD? I think we’ve got time.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Puck grins, because watching a DVD means a chance to at least pick up Kurt’s hand like he’s been thinking about, and if doesn’t _touch_ Kurt sometime soon he’s going to explode. Or at least that’s how he feels.

Kurt deliberately drives them to the empty Hudmel house, picks out a random DVD, and puts it on before curling up on the couch, half on Puck’s lap. “Dad and Carole will probably be home soon.”

“So. We should be... what? Chaste?”

Kurt shakes his head. “If Dad wants to think I’m lying to sneak around and have sex with my boyfriend, he can deal with it if he walks in on me with my hand up your shirt or with your lips somewhere on me.”

“Teenage rebellion kicking in a little late, blue eyes?” Puck asks, amused.

“Oh, shut up,” Kurt says, without any real heat behind the words. “I’m just frustrated.” His face turns pink. “In more ways than one.”

Which is pretty much all it takes for Puck to get on board with whatever plan Kurt has in mind. It turns out to be far less rebellious than Puck feared, just long, sloppy kisses and his hands tangling in Kurt’s hair while Kurt’s hands ghost over his scalp. Burt just rolls his eyes a little when he gets home and reminds Kurt that he expects him home by curfew, even if he’s only going out to drop Puck off at home.

“Satisfactory, K?”

“Not really.” Kurt pouts a little, and it’s the most adorable thing, so naturally Puck has to kiss him again. “I just didn’t expect him to think I’d been lying. He _knows_ you’re usually here on Tuesdays when he gets home. He _knows_ that we sometimes have time after school or on the weekend when there’s no one home or at your place. I don’t _need_ to lie to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Puck offers helplessly.

“It’s not your fault, baby. Not at all.” Kurt snuggles close against Puck’s side. His next sentence is a very quiet whisper. “Even if it were, I’d choose you.”

Puck has to swallow past the lump in his throat before he can respond. “I love you, too.”

 

Puck nods again as his mom pulls up in front of the Hudmel house. “All right, Mom. I get it. I’ll be home later, okay?”

“Okay, Noah. Have fun!”

“Yeah, all right.” He gets out and closes the door, then heads up to the porch and knocks on the door.

There’s a clatter on the other side of the door and then Finn opens it. “Hey, man. Kurt’s in the shower, so you’ll just have to pretend you’re here to hang out with me for a little while.”

“Do I hafta?” Puck pouts.

“Yup. Sucks to be you, huh?”

Puck nods, face solemn. “It’s a real tragedy.” He follows Finn into the living room and sits down on the couch.

“So, you enjoying all this extra time you’ve got on your hands?” Finn asks. “You look a little better.”

“Yeah, I feel better,” Puck admits. “I might even let the whole bat-guitar thing out again.”

“Uh huh,” Finn answers, dubiously. “Sure. That’ll be, uh, great that you can do that.”

“You know. When random people go, ‘hey, Puck, play this song!’ and I have to appear with guitar in hand. Bat-guitar.”

“Riiiight.” Finn looks at Puck askance and raises an eyebrow. “Bat-guitar.”

“Okay, so I hadn’t figured out a good bat-signal, but still.”

“Oh,” Finn says. “Okay, that makes sense. Bat-guitar like bat-signal.” Finn exhales. “I thought you were losing your mind or something, dude.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Puck smirks.

There are light footsteps coming down the stairs, then, and Puck swings his head over to the doorway where Kurt appears a second later. Kurt smiles and crosses the room, sitting down next to Puck. “Hi. I thought I heard you down here.”

“You did,” Puck agrees, leaning over and giving Kurt a slow kiss.

“Yeah, so I thought you were supposed to be Batman,” Finn pipes up, “but apparently Puck is the one with a bat-signal. Or a bat-guitar or something?”

“Bat-guitar?” Kurt looks puzzled. “Oh. Like when everyone is all ‘I need someone to play this song while I sing,’ you mean?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Finn shrugs. “I mean, I never asked him to do that. Just play accordion, and anyway, that was his idea.”

“Accordion?” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “And here we could have been doing tributes to Weird Al. Polka numbers.”

“Hey. Don’t remind people it was my idea. I have a small shred of a reputation left.”

“It didn’t even work!” Finn complains. “The song worked way better.”

“Not everything happens like in the movies, dude.” Puck shrugs.

“Well, it _should_. That would be awesome.”

“Only some movies,” Kurt points out. “I don’t think I’d like the ending very much for some others.”

“Yeah, some of them end stupid,” Puck agrees.

“The good ones I mean,” Finn shrugs. “I’m hungry. I think my mom made some kind of soup, if you want some.”

“I do want,” Puck agrees, standing up and offering Kurt a hand.

“If it’s what I’ve been smelling since I got home, then definitely,” Kurt agrees, taking Puck’s hand to stand but then failing to release it.

They eat a lot of soup and steal a few of the cookies Carole baked for the entire club as a snack before the doorbell rings at a quarter-til, and Finn lopes to the door to open it.

“Hey guys! It’s Rachel!” Finn calls back, loudly.

“Hi, Rachel,” Puck and Kurt chorus together in a monotone.

“Hello, boys!” Rachel calls out loudly. “I’m so excited about our rehearsal today,” she continues, her voice quieter but still carrying throughout the bottom floor of the house.

Puck shakes his head a little and he and Kurt walk back towards the living room, Kurt claiming the recliner and Puck sitting in the floor in front of it. “Are we still meeting tomorrow night?”

“Oh, I think we should,” Rachel nods. “We’ll miss you two of course,” she says to Finn and Kurt, “but even an abbreviated rehearsal is better than no rehearsal.”

“Definitely,” Finn nods. “I’ll leave some notes on what I think you guys should work on.”

The doorbell rings again, and this time Puck gets up and opens the door. Santana, Brittany, and Quinn all brush past him, and Puck’s about to close the door when he sees Artie’s dad drive up, so he goes out and helps get Artie up the porch steps and over the threshold. By the time he finishes _that_ , Sam and Tina have both pulled up, with Mercedes and Mike in tow, so Puck just holds the door open a little longer. By the time he makes it back into the living room, Kurt’s surrounded by his girls, Tina perched on one arm of the chair, Brittany, Santana, and Mercedes all in the floor near him. Even Quinn’s on the other side of Brittany. Puck just shakes his head slightly and leans against the doorway.

“So, we better get started,” Finn says, standing in front of everyone. “My mom made cookies and you’ve gotta work for ‘em! I think we’ll start with a run through of all three songs and then we’ll start talking about how we’ll manage the transitions. Sound good?”

“Let’s get started!” Brittany bounces a little.

“Yeah, let’s do this,” Artie nods.

They run through all three songs, one right after the other, and then they all sort of just look at each other blankly for a moment.

“Well, the music flows pretty well from the first song–which we never named, actually–into ‘Seasons of Love,’” Puck points out. “And we all have to walk out onto the stage anyway.”

“It’s your song, dude,” Finn says. “You should get first stab at naming it. And yeah, I think the first two flow together pretty well.”

Puck just shrugs. “Whatever. I’ll worry about it before we show Schue, I guess.”

“I think we just need a bridge of some kind between ‘Seasons of Love’ and ‘I Gotta Feeling,’” Tina offers. “Just a measure or two to connect them.”

“Puck?” Finn asks. “Is that something you maybe could?”

“I can try.” Puck shrugs. “They aren’t too dissimilar.”

“Cool,” Finn nods.

“We should work on the blocking for the two of you,” Mike says, looking at Finn and Rachel.

“Oh, we should,” Rachel bobs her head up and down. “I don’t mind pacing back and forth past each other, but I don’t want us to look too much like wild felines.”

“Wild felines what?” Finn asks, confused.

“I think she means you look like a tiger in a zoo,” Tina offers.

“Is that...that’s a _bad_ thing?”

“Considering you’re a primate, probably,” Artie nods.

“Right,” Mike cuts in. “So I’m going to steal these two for fifteen minutes or so.” He stands up and walks into the kitchen without waiting to see if Finn and Rachel are following.

Puck looks over at Kurt. “You want to help me out and play the piano while I try to figure out the bridge thing?” He hefts his guitar in one hand, and Kurt nods.

When they reconvene twenty minutes later, Puck has four measures written out, at least for two of the instruments, and Finn follows Mike back in, looking determined.

“I think it’s a good time for a break,” Finn states. “Cookies and pop in the kitchen.”

“Nice,” Sam nods, getting to his feet, and the twelve of them manage to squeeze into the kitchen. All the couples are squeezed next to each other (or sitting on top of each other, in the case of Tina and Mike, and Brittany and Santana), and even Artie looks like he’s enjoying a particularly salacious text.

Puck shrugs and takes another handful of cookies, leaning against the wall near the refrigerator. He absently wonders what would happen if he walked over and plunked down on Kurt’s lap. Well, other than Kurt telling him that he was heavy and to shift his weight differently.

“So, you know what I miss?” Finn mumbles around a mouthful of cookie. “I miss our gay dancing. Or ‘same-sex dancing,’ which is apparently what I’m supposed to call it.” He shoots a look at Kurt. “Anyway, I think when we were doing that at rehearsals, it was really helpful in keeping us, like, loosened up and moving good, plus it was fun and kinda silly. I think we should reinstitute dancing time at the end of rehearsals, and some of it should be same-sex.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mike agrees from behind Tina’s back. “Plus, we’ll want to maintain what we learned, because we’ll need more complex choreography as we move up.”

“I’m down with that,” Santana nods.

“I don’t think it _has_ to be our same partners from ‘Human,’ either,” Finn offers. “Which, I wanna dance with Mister Mike Chang over here, so all of you guys, back off!”

“I just want to see Puck lift Kurt again,” Brittany says. “That was totally hot.”

“It was very impressive,” Rachel quickly agrees with a nod. “They are surprisingly well-matched as dance partners.” She beams a little at the end of the sentence, and Puck thinks he should probably be relieved she didn’t wink at he or Kurt.

“Hey, who’s gonna FoxSquat with me now?” Artie whines as he winks at Finn. “Sam, are you up to the challenge?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam nods. “Maybe _I’ll_ lift _you_.”

“I’d like to see that,” Finn chuckles. “I don’t think Sam’s got the arm power for that, though. Me, I could lift all of you guys.”

Puck snorts, speaking up for the first time since the conversation started. “Yeah, let’s see it. ‘Cause last I checked, _these_ guns are the only ones that actually managed to lift another dude.” He flexes his arms a little and smirks.

“Come here,” Finn challenges. “I’ll lift you right now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck laughs, pushing off the wall. “Don’t damage the goods, bro.” He walks over to Finn and stands there. “C’mon, let’s see it.”

“We need some music. Somebody?” Finn requests, and then places himself into what he probably imagines is the proper stance for a lift, but looks more like he’s preparing to snap a football.

Artie’s still got his phone out from his texting, so he hits shuffle and music blares out. “There we go,” Puck grins.

“Ok, dude,” Finn says. “Ready when you are.”

“Hey, I’m just getting lifted. It’s all on you. Right?” He looks back over his shoulder at Kurt, who rolls his eyes a little but nods.

“Ok, then. One, two, three, and, oof, _crap_!” Finn starts to lift Puck and manages to get him about halfway up before losing his balance and pitching over backwards, taking Puck with him. Finn hits the ground hard and Puck does a half tumble over Finn’s head, landing more or less on his feet. “Sorry!” Finn gasps.

“Puck, you totally should have been a Cheerio,” Brittany says.

“Yeah, no thanks,” Puck shakes his head, and then he looks back down at Finn. “Dude, that sucked. I never dropped Kurt, not even the first time we tried it.”

“It’s true,” Kurt nods. “Though we did have the time we almost fell over laughing.”

“Yeah, but Kurt’s a lot lighter than you are, Puck,” Finn protests. “I could probably lift Kurt no problem. Kurt, come here and let me lift you!”

“Oh dear god,” Kurt mutters, standing up. “Girls? Would one of you spot me? Please?”

Santana laughs. “Yeah, we got your back.” She hauls Brittany to her feet and walks nearby.

“I should’ve thought of that,” Puck mutters.

“You ready, big brother?” Finn grins.

Kurt shrugs almost negligently. “Sure.” Puck can see Kurt’s body stiffen slightly in preparation.

Finn grips Kurt by the waist, noticeably more carefully than how he grabbed Puck, and seems to take a little more care planting his feet. “Ok, then,” Finn says. “One, two, three!” He pushes Kurt up and up, getting him a decent distance off the ground. There’s absolutely no grace in the movement, but Finn does, in fact, hike Kurt up into some semblance of a lift before setting Kurt back down on his feet. “See?” Finn puffs. “Told you.”

“No offense, little brother, but I’m not dancing with you again unless there’s some kind of special event. Like a wedding.”

Finn grins. “I’ll be sure to hold you to that, then. Very next wedding we go to, you owe me a dance.”

“Oh, no, I am not dancing with you at your great-aunt’s third wedding.”

Finn’s grin widens to the point that his eyes start to scrunch closed. “Well, you’re bound to get married eventually, right? I’ll make you dance with me at _your_ wedding.”

Kurt smiles sweetly, too sweetly, and Puck has a bad feeling about whatever’s about to come out of his mouth. “As long as you dance with both of the grooms.” Puck has to fight really hard not to wince visibly.

Finn freezes for a minute, like he’s not sure what the correct response is here. His flicks his eyes almost imperceptibly in Puck’s direction, then he snorts a laugh. “As long as he’s a better dancer than me,” Finn says. “I’m not gonna lift _him_ , though. That’s an honor I reserve just for my big brother.”

Rachel’s giggling, though so are most of the girls. “I’m sure Kurt will have someone who can keep up with him on the dance floor,” Rachel says impishly.

“And if he couldn’t, Kurt would make him go to dance lessons,” Mercedes adds, grinning. “Right, Kurt?”

“There’s nothing wrong with dance lessons,” Finn sputters. “I mean, if Kurt is gonna marry somebody who maybe isn’t the best dancer, it would be ok if he took dance lessons. That’s perfectly masculine.” He coughs a little. “Or, um, so I’ve heard.”

“I promise to send you all a video at the very least,” Kurt finally says with a shake of his head.

“Oh, good, we can critique Finn’s form with your husband,” Mike grins.

“Ok, well, moving right along,” Finn says. “Now that I’ve proved I can do awesome lifts, too, let’s have our ten or fifteen minutes of gay dancing!” He looks at Kurt expectantly, apparently waiting to be corrected. Kurt’s just looking off into space, though, mind clearly elsewhere, and Puck wonders absently if he looks similar because his mind can’t even really wrap itself around Mike’s offhand comment.

When Kurt misses the opportunity to correct Finn, Finn just shrugs and calls out, “Music!” He grabs Mike in what looks like waltz position. Mike looks surprisingly unsurprised.

Puck walks over to Kurt and bows in a ridiculous fashion, making Kurt snort back a laugh. “You don’t approve of my courtly manners, or whatever they’re called?” Puck asks, pulling Kurt out of his chair.

“I think you’d look dreadful in a powdered wig.”

They all dance around the kitchen and living room for fifteen minutes to Artie’s eclectic mix of music. Puck grins as Kurt spins out and back in close. “I don’t think we should let Finn do any more lifting.”

“No,” Kurt agrees, laughing a little. “That was a little frightening.”

“You never seemed worried when we were practicing, not even the first time.”

Kurt shrugs and smiles almost shyly. “I wasn’t.”

“Ok, everybody!” Finn says, after the fifteen minutes has passed. “We’re gonna do one more run through of the songs, this time with Puck’s transitions, and then I think Tina wants to do something with essays, right Tina?”

Tina nods feverishly. “I think I’m going crazy.”

“You probably are,” Mercedes agrees with a nod. “I can’t believe I have to finish all of this by the beginning of January.”

“You get until the end of December?” Mike exclaims.

“That is so unfair,” Puck agrees, shaking his head.

“Back on track, guys,” Finn says, actually clapping his hands to get their attention. “Run-through and _then_ essays!”

The run-through goes smoothly and Puck’s pleased that the bridge seems to work, even if it does mean he has to get the rest of the parts written out for it. On the plus side, he’s worried enough about the damn bridge that he forgets to be nervous about singing his solo.

When they finish the run-through, they all beam at each other before raiding the Hudmel fridge, and Puck ends up volunteering to bring in more pop from the refrigerator in the garage. When everyone’s quenched their thirst, Sam suggests they go ahead and order pizza, because an order that big will take at least an hour.

Puck hates to even think about the total bill that they’re going to see, all them tossing cash into the middle of the table.

“So who has a deadline sooner than January first?” Mike asks. Rachel, Mike, Puck, Kurt, and Artie raise their hands. “December first?” Everyone but Kurt and Artie nods.

“December fifteenth, technically,” Kurt answers, “but I’d like to get it in sooner so I can get my choice of audition dates.”

“You call and schedule it?” Rachel asks, and Kurt nods.

“Most Saturdays in the winter, I think, but I still have to schedule it in advance.”

“What about you, Artie?”

“Tuesday,” Artie admits. “Early Decision for USC.”

“Ouch!”

“And the rest of you lucky bastards get a whole month more,” Mike groans.

“What do you have to submit, Mike?” Sam asks.

“It’s not required, but some recording of original choreography is a big help,” Mike says. “Then there’s the audition in February: two classes and one solo.”

“Do they interview you for the dance programs, too? I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to that aspect of the process or not,” Kurt offers.

Mike shakes his head. “Just watch us dance, that’s it.”

“Those football recruiters seem even more friendly now,” Sam laughs.

“Hey, my recruiter was awesome,” Finn says. “The Wisconsin guy. Not the douchey one that Puck and Coach ran off.”

“Hey, he pretty much ran himself off.”

“Probably afraid of getting the gay all over him,” Finn snorts. “What with my terrifying brother and my scary, scary PFLAG meetings. He probably thinks everybody at McKinley’s gay.”

“I am _very_ terrifying,” Kurt agrees. “It’s a miracle people don’t start making out with their same-sex friends when I walk past.”

“Just so you know, I’m going after Mike,” Finn says, nodding soberly. “Tina, I can’t help myself, I’m sorry. It’s Kurt’s big gay influence. Ruined my college chances at...what was that college, anyway? Bundt, right? Like the cake?”

“I think there was an extra letter in there,” Puck responds.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Tina says magnanimously. “After all, if Kurt’s around, I’ll probably have to grab Rachel.”

Finn looks a little too interested in that statement. “Finn. Toddler videos,” Kurt whispers.

“Right! Right!” Finn composes himself. “I’ve got an essay I started for Wisconsin if anybody wants to look at it for me.”

Puck ends up looking at Mike’s essays, and vice versa, since they’re each familiar with the questions on the Unified App. Kurt ends up being pressed into service for checking comma placement and subject/verb agreement, and Puck smirks a little, thinking that maybe Kurt doing those ‘ridiculous worksheets’ for Puck actually came in handy. They break for pizza and then argue over what movie to watch, people slowly trickling away as the movie ( _Dogma_ , in the end) ends.

Puck disappears into the bathroom as they all start to leave, because if Sam or someone offers a ride tonight, he’s going to be seriously pissed and might even do something stupid. Kurt’s leaving for a couple of days and rationally Puck knows he’ll see him Tuesday but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s used to spending Sunday with him and eating dinner with him on Monday nights.

It doesn’t change the fact that Puck’s gonna miss Kurt like hell for the next two days.

When he emerges, almost everyone’s gone, and Finn and Rachel are giggling in the kitchen. Kurt grabs his hand and pulls him close, wrapping his arms around him. “I’ll come get some coffee in the morning before I head out,” he murmurs.

“Okay,” Puck nods and then moves his head, kissing Kurt firmly, backing him up against the wall, and the thought occurs to him that _this_ is probably the kind of thing Burt doesn’t want to see, but he finds that, like Kurt, he doesn’t particularly care.


	4. Parent/Teacher Night (a 3x09 bonus fic)

_I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch though. I’ll bring the next Sandman if you’re ready to swap out._

Casey hits send and then grabs his history notebook, thumbing through until he gets to the notes he needs to start his essay. He sits down on his bed and highlights notes for an hour or so, before he hears his mom’s car pulling into the driveway. Even though Casey doesn’t think there should be any surprises regarding his grades this year, he still feels the little bubble of fear, the _what if_ that seems to underlie all the interactions with his parents. Please, _please_ , no _what ifs_ tonight. Tomorrow is lunch and math with David. Casey just wants to finish his homework, go to bed, and think about tomorrow.

He hears the front door open and close, not loud, just quiet as she can do it. It’s still too loud.

“Amy?” Casey’s dad shouts, and that’s it, that’s the _what if_. “What the hell are you doing home?”

Casey can’t hear his mom’s response, just the low murmur of her voice, and he wills himself to stay on his bed and keep focusing on his history. He hears the hollow clink of a bottle being set down with force. “And how many hours of pay did you lose for that?” Mick’s voice demands.

Willpower isn’t going to cut it, so Casey quietly climbs off his bed and cracks his bedroom door, listening.

“It’s only five hours, Mick, and what else was I supposed to do?” Casey hates the pleading tone in her voice, mainly because he hears it in his own so often. “One of us has to go.”

“Naw we don’t,” Mick insists, his words slurring together just a bit. “School’ll mail us that damn report card with our tax dollars.”

“Mick,” Amy says, her voice creeping up into that squeak that Casey inherited, one more thing about him that is too much like his mom, not enough like his dad. “It’s not just the report card. They expect us to be there. I can make up the hours this weekend. I’m sure Estelle will let me work the double.”

“Hmph.” There’s a long silence, and Casey holds his breath, hoping this means it’s over, that his mom will walk down the hallway and into his parents’ bedroom, and that’ll be it. She doesn’t come down the hall, and the silence stretches too long, and Casey’s whole body tenses. “So this stupid school night is more important than what _I_ need from you this weekend? Your _husband_? I’m pretty sure a double shift wouldn’t leave you enough time to get everything done around here. So you’re saying the school’s more important than me.”

“I’m not saying that, Mick. Of course I’m not! Please don’t be angry about this. I’ll find another way to make up the time.”

“Don’t tell me how to be!”

Casey holds his breath, silently praying that his mom apologizes, that she just concedes, that she does any of the things that sometimes, but not every time, can snap Mick out of his moods. Please, mom, please.

“I’m not telling you how to be,” Amy responds, and Casey squeezes his eyes closed. “I’m just asking you not to make this into too big a deal.”

“Sneaking around is a big deal!” There’s a scuffling noise and Amy makes a small sound.

“Mick! Let go! Please, I wasn’t sneaking, I told you about the parent/teacher night. Look, I even put the note on the fridge.”

Another noise, louder this time, a wooden scrape, then the sharp rip and crumple of paper. Casey puts his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t see any note.”

“It’s right there. Mick, we _have_ to go to these things, they’re require--”

“Shut up, you dumb bitch.” A much louder noise, clearly the smack of flesh against flesh, and Amy cries out, just loud enough for Casey to hear her.

Casey thinks about tomorrow, about math and David and Sandman, and his shoulders drop, resigned, as he pulls his bedroom door open and hurries down the hallway. Amy is standing in the kitchen with her hand to her cheek and Casey places his body, which never feels smaller than when he’s in the presence of his father, between Mick and Amy.

“Dad, she had to go,” Casey says, his voice breaking before he even gets through the sentence. “They sent a note. She put it on the fridge.” He tries to square his shoulders, tries to look his dad in the eyes and show him that he’s not afraid, that he can be a man, too.

Casey has always been a terrible liar.

Mick scoffs, ridicule clear in his eyes. “Stay out of this, you sissy boy.”

“She had to go, dad,” Casey insists, trying hard to keep his voice steady. Failing. Shaky and small and failing. “Just let her alone, okay? I’ll take care of anything she has to miss for work.”

“No son of mine is going to be doing a woman’s work,” Mick growls, and his arm moves so quickly that Casey doesn’t realize he’s been hit until his dad’s Army ring connects with his cheek and he’s falling backwards into the table. He stays where he falls, blinking his eyes to clear them. Casey sees his mother standing there, her thin lips pressed into a hard line, and he sees her as she turns and walks down the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

“Dad?” Casey says, hating himself for the sound of his voice, for asking for whatever it is he’s asking for. His face throbs and his shoulder blade burns where it connected with one of the kitchen chairs on his way down, but mostly, he just hurts in the pit of his stomach.

Mick rolls his eyes and almost spits as he answers harshly. “Get out of my sight. You’re an embarrassment.”

Casey pushes himself backwards across the floor with his heels, just enough to catch one of the chairs and pull himself to his feet. He doesn’t look back at his dad. He doesn’t even try for manliness or dignity. He just runs back into his room, not slamming the door, because nobody slams doors in Mick O’Brien’s house.

He looks at his face in the small mirror over his dresser, and he hates what he sees. Hair too far out from a haircut, eyes too weepy, mouth too much like his mother’s to be a man’s mouth, and the red welt already rising up on his cheek to complete the picture of a boy who doesn’t deserve to be Mick’s son. That’s Casey, a crying face in a mirror.

A soft tap on his door snaps Casey away from his reflection, bracing himself, but then, his father never knocks. Casey’s mom pushes the door open, and the look they exchange is a whole conversation without words. They’ve had it before, so what’s the point of saying it out loud one more time?

“You should stay home tomorrow,” Amy says, and as much as it sounds like a suggestion, Casey knows it’s not. He can’t go to school looking like that.

“Yeah, mom, I will,” Casey responds. “Thanks. I’ll take care of dad’s ironing while you’re at work, okay? You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh, Casey,” she sighs, reaching out one arm. He walks the three steps towards her and allows her the awkward, single-arm embrace, but it’s not until she lets him go and leaves his room that he can start to relax. Even then, he has to take care of _that_ and then let David know he won’t be there tomorrow. Strangely, the second thing hurts worse than the first.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Emails](https://archiveofourown.org/works/877942) by [elemenoh_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elemenoh_p/pseuds/elemenoh_p)
  * [[Podfic] Parent/Teacher Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/877951) by [elemenoh_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elemenoh_p/pseuds/elemenoh_p)




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